


it's our hearts that make the beat

by bubbleteas



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Band Fic, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, iwaizumi plays the drums, oikawa is a cellist, rated M for future chapters, this totally hasn't been on this site lmaooo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-09-07 23:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8820142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbleteas/pseuds/bubbleteas
Summary: "So wait, let me get this straight. You want me to play percussion for your ensemble not only for you to get a passing grade, but also because you want to see this so-called Ushiwaka and his--what was it--accomplice Tobio-chan to fall to their knees at your mercy?"Tooru's eye twitches, but he nods anyway. "That's the idea."feat cellist oikawa and drummer iwaizumi





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So... I wrote this a long time ago but then decided to restart it for nano, so like that's why it disappeared. I hope you like the revamp!
> 
> Special thanks to M, Cam, Sabrina, Nick, Mae, Pia and the rest of Setternet for keeping me motivated during nanowrimo, being there for me during my slumps, and for helping me figure out what to do with this plot!
> 
> Finally, thank you to Eric for always being there for me, especially when I wrote this instead of marathoning Star Wars with you. Ily man.

 

 

> **Oikawa Tooru (@oiktooru)** tweeted
> 
> GO TO HELL YOU STUPID FUCKING SWAN! (‡▼益▼)
> 
>  
> 
> **Sugawara Koushi (@sugakou)** tweeted
> 
> @oiktooru what is it this time
> 
>  

"Stupid fucking Ushiwaka!" Tooru screeches, throwing his baton across the room in his rage. Suga, his roommate looks up just in time to see the stick fly directly towards his face and he grimaces before he ducks and avoids the flying hazard before it takes out his eye. Pulling out one of his headphones, he shoots Tooru a disappointed look.

"What happened this time?"

Tooru flops onto his bed and groans. He had gone out in the morning feeling like nothing could ruin his day, and he comes back like this. Completely wrecked and dead. Just dead.

"Stupid Ushiwaka," Tooru repeats, his lips pulling down into a pout. He turns his head and looks at Suga who regards him like he's crazy. "You know, my ensemble was full when we began this stupid project. I had enough soprano, alto and tenor instruments to balance out the composition just right and I'd gotten my hands on _both_ Watari and Shirabu and guess what Ushiwaka does?"

Suga raises a brow, unrelenting. "What." He deadpans.

Tooru scowls. "He takes both of them! I don't know how he fucking does it. First with Tobio-chan at the beginning of the semester--which was a dick move, by the way, pulling a _soloist_ days before the recital--and now he's taken the only good bass player and my last percussionist!" He groans. "Suga-chan what do I do?"

Suga heaves a sigh and puts his books down on the stand next to his bed and leans back against the headboard, his arms behind his head. "Well, I don't know." Tooru snorts and buries his head into his pillow. "What I _mean_ is that I'm an engineering major, Oikawa-kun, not a composition one. Maybe asking someone like Matsukawa would be more suitable."

"Do you think I haven't tried that yet, Suga-chan?" Tooru says miserably. "Mattsun's busy getting his own group together. At this rate, I'm going to be the only person without a full ensemble."

Suga hums. "Well from what it sounds like, all you need is a bass player and a drummer right?"

Annoyed, Tooru sits up and scowls at his roommate. "Yeah, but unless you can suddenly perform miracles, how can I get a bassist and a percussionist rehearsed and ready to perform with my ensemble in _a month_?"

Suga pauses for a second before a small sly smile crosses his features. "Don't worry, Oikawa. I know a guy."

Tooru feels a smile beginning on his face before he remembers the level of his piece and he sulks again, burying his face in the heels of his palms with a whine. Suga automatically lets out a squeak and there's a bit of shuffling from his end before a pillow hits Tooru's face. He squawks indignantly before he pouts at Suga pointing an accusatory finger at the silver haired man. "Mean, Suga-chan! Mean!"

Suga just lets out a small huff before he looks back down at his books. "You're whining again, great king."

Tooru flushes red and half-heartedly throws the pillow back at Suga, who catches it with ease. "Quit it. You haven't called me that since high school."

Suga stretches and sends Tooru a bright smile, one that automatically sours his mood and then brings it back up again. He walks toward the kitchen, his hands on his hips. "I didn't intend to, not until you started whining again. The way you're acting now," he explains as he pours himself a glass of water, "reminds me of a certain whiny sixteen-year-old baby."

Tooru sticks his tongue out, and Suga sends him a pointed glare. "See what I mean? Now, what's got you all whiny? I already told you that I knew a guy, so why are you still sulking?"

Tooru makes a face as Suga takes a gulp of water. "My music...do you think they'll be able to play it?"

"It's just music, don't you just play it?" Suga deadpans.

Tooru throws a pencil at Suga, who easily dodges it. "Some music, Suga-chan, you can't just play. I need this piece to be perfect if I want to beat that annoying Tobio-chan -"

"And Ushiwaka-chan." Suga finishes, his voice pitched higher in an imitation of Tooru's voice. Tooru lets out a slight growl and Suga holds a hand up. "Okay, okay, sorry. But don't worry about this kid I've got. He's good. Like crazy good. He used to be in the orchestra in his first year as a percussionist. The other one is one of Japan's best bass players, top five." Suga sends Tooru a smile over the rim of his glass. "Trust me, Oikawa."

Tooru rolls his eyes as he runs a hand through his hair. "It's not that I don't _trust_ you," he says quietly. He hums for a moment before he regards Suga suspiciously. "I thought you said you weren't a music expert, Suga-chan. How do you know this kid?"

Suga stiffens before he palms the nape of his neck nervously. "Ah yeah. It's nothing. Someone in Daichi's band."

Tooru grins. "Daichi, huh?"

Suga turns beet red. "Shut it. They should have a show coming up soon, so I'll text you the details. Don't miss it."

"They," Tooru hums. "You sure they'll be able to get everything down-pat before the recital?"

"Trust me." Suga grins. "You'll absolutely _love_ them."

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **Oikawa Tooru (@oiktooru)** tweeted
> 
> not today swan satan!! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و saved by my very own angelic jesus
> 
> **Sugawara Koushi (@sugakou)** tweeted
> 
> Aces' show today at the North Auditorium - 5:00! Don't miss it!
> 
> **Sugawara Koushi (@sugakou)** tweeted
> 
> @sugakou @oiktooru this means you

 

 

 

 

 

When Tooru was eight years old, his father had given him a cello instead of a volleyball for his birthday.

At first, he was furious. His current volleyball had been worn down, held together with duct tape and his sister’s terrible stitching skills, and he’d been heavily hinting at a new ball a month before his birthday came. So when his present came in the shape of an instrument, rather than a sphere, he was devastated.

However, when he’d finally gone for his first lesson, and had played the first note on his cello, he’d fallen in love. He wasn’t good, per se, but he loved the cello, loved the music, loved the sensual timbre of the instrument and he used it, honed it until he was able to play songs and runs with his eyes closed.

It wasn’t until four years later when Tooru had won first place in a prefectural competition, that he momentarily put down the cello and picked up volleyball again. It was like falling in love again. Playing the sport was almost like playing the instrument. The strong crescendos and staccatos of a piece mirrored the adrenaline rushes he experienced in a game. Their plays were the bow, the game was the song, and Tooru was the bow, directing the players to victory.

Even now, Tooru still feels the exhilaration of playing the cello. Although an injury in high school prevented him from playing the sport again, he found his salvation in the cello and the memories that associated themselves with the feelings, not the actions.

As he’s walking down to the rehearsal hall, cello strapped to his back, he can’t help but wonder what will happen if Suga’s percussionist and bassist refuse to play in his band. Failure isn’t an option for Tooru, especially since it’s his or Ushiwaka’s reputation on the line. As the fine arts building comes into view, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket and he picks it up, not bothering to look at the caller and puts it to his ear.

“You forgot to put your underwear in the laundry basket.”

Tooru huffs. “Good morning to you too, Suga-chan.”

Suga’s clear giggle rings in Tooru’s ear. “Seriously, though. I just did the laundry and your underwear was not included.”

“I’ll just do it tomorrow,” Tooru says petulantly. He can picture Suga’s disgusted look, and adds lamely: “I still have plenty of underwear in my closet.”

“Of course you do.” Suga deadpans, and Tooru lets out a scoff. “Anyways, where are you right now? It’s lunch day and Daichi and Tetsurou really want to try out this new bistro downtown.”

Oh right. Tooru nearly lets out a curse. Saturdays are usually reserved for their group to go out and try a new restaurant in Tokyo, although some are better than others. Kuroo, the most idiotic of their foursome usually chooses the worst places to go to, and there have been more than one occasion where the four of them is reduced to three because of an unforeseen case of diarrhea, or a near death experience with shrimp.

“I can’t today,” Tooru says lamely. There’s shuffling on the other end, followed by a muffled _fuck you, oikawa_ that suspiciously sounds like it’s coming from Kuroo. “I have practice.”

Suddenly, there’s loud static on Suga’s end and Tooru flinches away from the phone. After a couple of moments, Kuroo’s angry voice fills the receiver. “Your practice starts at two, dipshit. Don’t pull that crap with me.”

“Tetsu-chan,” Tooru says weakly.

“I even went out of my way to book some great Korean-Chipotle hybrid and you don’t come.”

Tooru blanches and he can hear Suga’s shrill “ _Korean-chipotle!”_ before Kuroo’s voice returns, sharp and angry as ever.

“But as long as you show up tonight I’m cool with it.”

Tooru pauses. “Tonight?”

“Yeah.” Kuroo sounds confused as well. “You’re coming to watch Aces right?”

“Oh.” Tooru deadpans. “I forgot you were in that band.”

“I’m hurt,” Kuroo whines, and Tooru can picture him clutching his heart in agony, can see Daichi’s annoyed expression and Suga’s inevitable facepalm. “Anyways, trust Suga on what he says about Bo and Zumes. They’re both amazing.”

Tooru sniffs. “Why is it that all of you know them, and I have no idea who they are?”

“Maybe it’s because you’re always holed up in that rehearsal room of yours. Anyways, we’re going to miss our reservation if we don’t hurry out. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Also, you totally don’t have any clean underwear left, I checked!”

Tooru’s about to reply when the line goes dead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **Kuroo Tetsurou (@kurootitties)** tweeted
> 
> @oiktooru i see them boxers “[ http://pic.twitter.com/123232… ](http://pic.twitter.com/123232%E2%80%A6)”
> 
>  
> 
> **Oikawa Tooru (@oiktooru)** tweeted
> 
> @kurootitties i ACtualLY HATE YOU
> 
>  
> 
> **Kuroo Tetsurou (@kurootitties)** tweeted
> 
> Feeling the love with the korean-chipotle! 2 bad Sugs threw up (＾• ω •＾)
> 
>  
> 
> **Bokuto Koutarou (@officialowl)** tweeted
> 
> Korean Chipotle! Take me with you @kurootitties
> 
>  
> 
> **Sawamura Daichi (@sawamuradai1)** tweeted
> 
> @officialowl no.
> 
>  
> 
> **Sugawara Koushi (@sugakou)** tweeted
> 
> @officialowl no
> 
>  
> 
> **Terushima Yuuji (@terushimaces)** tweeted
> 
> @officialowl lol no
> 
>  
> 
> **Shimizu Kiyoko (@shimizukiyoko)** tweeted
> 
> @officialowl no
> 
>  
> 
> **Bokuto Koutarou (@officialowl)** tweeted
> 
> lET ME LIVE I GE T IT

  


 

 

When he finally enters the rehearsal hall, he grabs a chair and a stand, places them in the center of the room and sits down. Taking a moment, he takes out his bow, tightens the strings and applies resin with a careful hand. It’s another two hours to his band rehearsal. Tooru lets out a sigh as he props up his cello. Sometimes he wonders whether or not he’ll survive the term. With only a couple of weeks to go, it’s nearly impossible for the band to be ready in time for the recital. 

Tooru closes his eyes as he plays an open D, and when he feels he’s ready, he begins to play Saint-Saens’ _Le Cygne_.

It’s easy for Tooru to get lost in the music. As he plays, his body moves with the notes, head swaying with the crescendos and body curving with fermatas. As he plays the melody, he can remember sitting in the music room back in elementary. His sister played piano back then, and she accompanied him. He remembers playing on his first cello, fingers shaking as he struggled with vibrato and pitch. As he plays, he can feel the desperation of his last volleyball match, the passion in his first concert. He relives the heartbreak of losing a match, the triumph in winning a trophy. He feels the firm handshake when he starts a game, the congratulatory one when he accepts his trophy. Most of all, he sees the beauty in it all. He sees the grace in setting up a spike, the grace in a chromatic run. He sees the beauty that is in Oikawa Tooru.

As he finishes the song, he holds the last note for three beats longer before he begins the next song. It’s something he composed back in his last year of high school. The pent up frustration of volleyball had destroyed him physically and emotionally. However, he found himself once again in music. As Tooru plays the complicated sequences at the beginning of the song, he remembers the pain, the immense agony he had gone through after the injury. As he plays the sforzando, he feels his heart drop as the doctor tells him there’s no hope for his knee.

Tooru still remembers the sterile white of the hospital room when he had gotten the news. His knee had throbbed. As his mom held his hand in hers, he remembers turning the words over and over again in his mind, constantly processing them as his mother sobbed over his shoulder. At the time, it had seemed surreal. His life had revolved around volleyball. His _future_ was based on volleyball. As his mother comforted him, he remembers sobbing into his arms, shoulders heaving as he cried for the loss of his love.

The section ends with a sombre eighth note run before the key changes. There’s a sense of hope in the music. As he plays his quarter note phrases, he remembers the nostalgia he had felt when he started managing the volleyball team rather than playing on it. He remembers the pride he experienced when his team made it to nationals. He remembers the feeling of timid joy when his mother pulled out his cello from the storage closet, and the excitement when he had finally learned to play again.

The tune gives way to joyful arpeggios and Tooru remembers entering prefectural competitions after a five-year hiatus. The arpeggios turn into sixteenth note runs and into joyful song. He can still hear the fearful whispers of the other players. _He’s back._ They had said. _The prodigy is back_ . And as Tooru sat on the stage, bow in his hand. He thought, _hell yeah, I am_.

  
  


 

 **From Suga-chan  
** I swear to god, the next time you skip saturday lunch im going to kill you  
Daichi’s stuck in the bathroom 

 **To Suga-chan  
** lool rip  
also its not my fault i have practice 

 **From Suga-chan  
** it kinda is tbh  
remember to be by the dorm at five, kuroos giving us a ride

 **To Suga-chan  
** why so you can shove korean chipotle down my throat 〣( ºΔº )〣  
no thank you 

 **From Suga-chan  
** wth no  
the band remember?  
whatever be there or dont have players see if i care 

 **To Suga-chan  
** mean suga chan (҂ `з´ )

 

 

 

 

It still strikes Tooru as amazing at how often the other students stare at him in awe. He knows that there are many people in the University that can play their instruments better than he can. He sees the international students with their colourful hair and ‘holier-than-thou’ attitude, and can immediately tell that they are at a calibre that Tooru can only dream of reaching. However, when he returns to the practice room after a fifteen-minute break, he is horribly unnerved when the mass noise of instruments abruptly stops when he enters the room.

Tooru thinks it must be a funny sight. He’s standing at the door a half-eaten granola bar in one hand and a pocari in the other. The others are sitting, instruments near their faces, staring at him with a pure look of terror on their faces. He slowly swallows the remains of the granola bar in his mouth before he slowly mumbles “Don’t stop on my account, you guys sound great.”

Almost immediately, the music returns and Tooru can only listen as he walks up to the podium at the front of the room. As he does, he can pick out individual players who play their chromatic runs with ease. There’s a trumpet player whose tone and pitch could rival Tobio-chan’s, and Tooru slows down slightly to listen. He picks up another instrument, a flute this time, and the sixteenth note runs are absolutely angelical.

As he nears the string section, his eye catches a head of curly hair. Smirking, Tooru skips up to the player and with a practiced hand, flicks the nape of his neck. The player stiffens, head turning slightly to regard Tooru with an unamused glare. Akaashi Keiji, with his violin gracefully tucked under his chin stares at Tooru for a long moment, rolls his eyes and resumes playing.

“Rude, Keiji-chan!” Tooru whines and Akaashi stops playing.

“Oikawa-san, practice starts soon. You should be up on the podium.”

“Why,” Tooru remarks, hand ruffling Akaashi’s hair. “Am I not allowed to talk to my friend?”

Akaashi blinks before he sets down his violin, tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “What do you want?”

Akaashi had been one of Tooru’s first friends at the University. Although the violinist was a year younger than him, his talent found him in America for the later years of high school. He had early admission into Tokyo’s music program and was one of the brightest in Tooru’s year. He is witty and charming; however, Tooru finds his bluntness and ‘lack of non-musical emotion’ as Kuroo calls it, annoying as it is endearing.

“Are you coming to lunch next Saturday?”

Akaashi blanches. “Why would I?” Tooru stifles a laugh as Akaashi’s face goes through a series of emotions before settling on disgust. “I saw what happened to Sawamura-san.”

“I guess,” Tooru replies. “I think Suga-chan’s picking next week, though, so you’ll be pretty safe.”

“I don’t know,” Akaashi mumbles, bringing his violin up to his shoulder. “Kuroo-san manages to ruin everything.”

Tooru laughs as he walks away, ear picking up Akaashi’s wonderful melodies. He recognizes Vivaldi and Corelli, and he’s oddly satisfied with the ensemble’s sound.

He’s excited, terribly so that when he calms down the band to begin playing, he bounces on the balls of his feet. As he calls out the five pieces they’re playing for the recital, a hand shoots up and Tooru looks over the rim of his glasses. Humming slightly, he nods at the question.

“Oikawa-san, is there something happening today? You seem excited.”

Tooru looks at the small violinist and he nods slowly. “Yeah,” he says, smile widening. “We might be able to pull together for the recital.”

The violinist, a small oranged-haired boy in first-year grins. “Really, Oikawa-san! That’s great!”

Tooru nods, and picks up his baton, shuffling the music on his stand so it’s in the right order. Standing stiffly, he raises his arms and watches as the instruments simultaneously move into ready.

“B-flat chromatic scale, four octaves,” he says, closing his eyes. As he sets the time for the scales, he falls into the familiar sound of music.

 

 

 

 

 

**[Group] Titty Croissant**

**sugakou:** Oikawa, where are you?  
**sugakou:** It’s almost five 

 **oiktooru:** ack im almost there i promise!  
**oiktooru:** cleaning took longer than i thought it would ｡･ﾟﾟ*(>д<)*ﾟﾟ･｡

 **sawamuradai1:** quit the kaomijis im going to be late

 **oiktooru:** sorry dai-chan, im almost there i promise 

 **kurootitties:** i told nyall this motherfucker was going to be late

 **sugakou:** oedipus complex

 **kurootitties:** oH FOR THR LOVE OF GOd  
**kurootitties:** i hate you

 **sawamuradai1:** are you not concerned that we’re going to be late

 **kurootitties:** what for lol they arent gonna start without us

 **keijiakaashi:** why am i even in this chat  
**keijiakaashi:** also sawamura-san has a point if you’re late you’re going to be killed by shimizu-san

 **sawamuradai1:** preach akkahsi  
**sawamuradai1:** akkashi  
**sawamuradai1:** akaahsi  
**sawamuradai1:** fuck  
**sawamuradai1:** AKAASHI 

 **kurootitties:** wow good going sawamura

 **sawamuradai1:** shut up  
**sawamuradai1:** i see oikawa  
**sawamuradai1:** lets go neko fucker 

 **kurootitties:** nya  
**kurootitties:** ฅ(• ɪ •)ฅ

  
  
  
  
 

The venue is packed. 

As Tooru looks around the crowd, he finds _all twenty_ of his former ensemble members and he grits his teeth in annoyance. Suga, who's busy taking pictures of the venue and tweeting them,  seems to notice the change in his mood and lock his phone. He stares at Tooru for a full minute before he reaches over and pokes his cheek. Hard. Indignantly, Tooru pushes Suga away and sticks out his tongue, reminding himself of a five-year-old.

"What is it?"

Tooru sniffs and pretends not to hear Suga's harmless question, but gives up as he sees his entire brass bass section pass by him. One of his players--his tuba by the looks of it--catches his eye and scurries away quickly, a look of pure terror on his face. Tooru seethes and only refrains from charging the student due to Suga's comforting hand on his knee. "Tooru?"

"Nothing." he grits out settling on his chair. He's met with silence and he raises an eyebrow at Suga. "What?"

Suga hums and pockets his phone, still staring at Tooru who scowls and crosses his arms petulantly. Annoyed, Tooru frowns. " _What_?"

"You're never this quiet." Suga comments. He crosses his legs and stares at the empty stage. "Usually when you are, it means that there's something wrong, or you're just being a drama queen. And something tells me it isn't the former."

Tooru snorts. "What makes you say that?"

"You're not constantly whining about Ushiwaka."

Tooru sputters and is in the middle of explaining that he does _not_ always talk about Ushiwaka and that he doesn't _whine_ when the lights in the auditorium dim, and the lights on the stage turn on, illuminating the space. Suga hushes him hastily with a press of his palm against Tooru's mouth and he's about to tell him off when the music plays.

There's a reason as to why Tooru's never been to an on-campus concert, or why he hasn't heard of Daichi's group even though he personally knows him and half the band: he hates the noise. In grade school, his private tutor had given him a lecture on the difference between noise and music, and how he should know the difference by now because _Oikawa-kun, if you want to become a great musician, you must learn that music combines melodies and harmonies together, and noise, although it may sound like music, is not. Noise is a bunch of chords and lyrics mashed together to create what is a song. It is music, but my dear it is not_ real _music._

That day he had lost two things: his taste in popular culture as Suga calls it, and his favourite Queen special edition CD.

He likes to think that his decision after that hour-long lecture was the right one: cutting out all outside influences to music other than Beethoven and Mozart and his cello, but when the drums and the guitar start to play, he wants to throw all his philosophies, and that stupid lecture out the window.

The instruments together don't make _noise_ , they make music.

Tooru hastily looks up at the six figures on stage and he can easily spot Daichi in the front, a microphone at his lips. From the corner of his eye, he sees Suga dancing to the song and mouthing the lyrics, but what really captures his attention is the drummer in the back.

His first thought is _Holy hell mother of god save me._

His second is _Holy shit those drumrolls please be in my band._

None of them are too coherent to be considered full thoughts, but as he closes his eyes and loses himself in the music, he finds that he doesn't regret a single thing about this night.

 

 

 

 

 

"Great job out there tonight!" Daichi has about half a second of warning before Suga flings his entire body onto his boyfriend, who stumbles and laughs as he tries to balance the two of them. Tooru stands awkwardly at the entrance of the backstage room, not sure if he entirely belongs with the people that occupy it. As Suga wraps his arms around his waist, Daichi sends Tooru a smile.

"Thanks," he mumbles against Suga's neck. To Tooru he holds out a fist. "Oikawa."

"Daichi," Tooru says, smiling as he walks over and presses his own fist against Daichi's. There's a muffled shout from behind the curtain and after a couple of grunts, Kuroo emerges. Tooru rolls his eyes at Kuroo’s smirk but reciprocates nonetheless when a fist is offered to him.

"So, I found this new hybrid restaurant downtown. Are you guys up for it?" Kuroo asks, leaning up against the wall, and wiping his face with a towel.

The entire room goes silent. “What, _now_?” Suga splutters.

Kuroo takes a sip of his water. “Yeah, obviously now. No time like the present!”

The curtain ruffles once again and out steps a girl, the guitarist, as Tooru recalls. She sends Kuroo a disgusted look as she pulls her hair into a bun. “Kuroo-san that sounds like a terrible idea.”

Kuroo shrugs and reaches for her, but she’s light on her feet and dodges his long arm. “Kuroo-san,” she warns.

“Yeah, yeah, Shimizu,” Kuroo winks. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early for philosophy!”

Shimizu nods once and bows to the rest of them before scurrying out of the dressing room. Tooru can’t blame her. Kuroo Tetsurou is one specimen of a human being.

“Oikawa, you wanted to see Bo and Zumes, right?” Kuroo asks, eyeing Suga and Daichi with a distasteful eye.

"The bassist and the percussionist!" Suga inputs.

"I -" Tooru blinks. "Yeah. Should I go see them now or..."

"Yeah, probably." Daichi hums, looking at his and Suga's intertwined fingers. "Terushima left right after the show, so it should just be Bokuto and Iwaizumi left. They're probably packing up, but you'll want to catch them before they leave."

Tooru nods numbly and weakly gestures to the curtain. "So just behind..."

"Oikawa." Daichi interrupts. "Don't worry, they're good people. They'll hear you out.”

"I - Okay," Tooru manages and he stands up and walks towards the curtain. Taking a breath, he grasps the fabric and walks through.

He expects to find dark fabric and equally dark lighting, accompanied by two extremely buff guys (both of them were, Tooru had downright _stared_ when he was in the crowd) that are eager enough to rip him to shreds. Instead, he finds a brightly lit room, with two guys packing up a drum kit and a bass, both of which stare at him when he walks in.

"We don't give autographs." the first of the two says automatically, looping an amp cord around his hand and elbow. His black and white hair is spiked up and he looks at Tooru like he might be a rabid fan.

"I - Well, I'm not a -" Tooru stutters, blushing beet red. The two look at him with raised eyebrows. He clears his throat. "What I mean is, I'm not here for your autograph. I'm here to ask for your help.

"The conductor." Tooru jumps and looks up at the other guy. He locks the snare's case and brushes his hands on his pants, standing up. Tooru swallows. His black t-shirt is tight on him, showing everything Tooru wants to see. The guy walks up to him, hand outstretched. It takes Tooru a moment, but he shakily offers his hand as well, and the two share an awkward - well, on Tooru's part - handshake. "Iwaizumi Hajime and this here is Bokuto Koutarou."

"Ahh," Tooru says, his throat dry. "I'm -" 

"Oikawa Tooru," Iwaizumi says. "I know."

Tooru's stomach flutters and he fights the urge to blush.

"I also know about your proposition." Iwaizumi continues. _God, his pecs are amazing._ "And I'm sorry to say that I'll have to decline."

Decline? Wha-

"Decline?" Tooru squeaks. "I - _Decline?_ "

Iwaizumi scowls. "Didn't you hear me the first time? Look, I know you're a big shot conductor and all that, but I can't be going back to the music program after ditching it in my first year. And honestly, I don't think I have the time to make it to rehearsals with classes and my gigs."

"But it's only for a little over a month!" Tooru begs, his eyes flashing. He takes a step forward, cautiously. "Surely you can make time -"

"Of course he can," Bokuto interrupts, slinging his bass over his shoulder. "But you're gonna have to convince him." He grabs a water bottle from off the floor and walks over to fist-bump Iwaizumi.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Iwaizumi calls, and Bokuto waves in response. It's quiet in the room for a few moments. Iwaizumi crouches down to grab his drumsticks from off the floor and he absentmindedly twirls them around his fingers

"So?" Iwaizumi begins, dark eyes meeting Tooru's. A small smirk graces his lips.

"Convince me."

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi’s mouth pulls into a frown. “I’m not used to playing classical music yet. It’s been a while. I haven’t found my niche.”
> 
> Tooru watches as Iwaizumi pulls his jacket on. His shirt rides up for a longer period of time and Tooru’s eyes latch on to the dark trail of hair that leads to the hem of his jeans. “Well,” he begins, eyes snapping back to Iwaizumi’s face. “Maybe you’ll find it here.”
> 
> Iwaizumi smiles, dark eyes boring into Tooru’s. “Yeah. Maybe.”

There’s something about Iwaizumi’s demeanour that’s oddly sexual. Tooru doesn’t know if it’s the way he says “convince me”, or if it’s the relaxed, completely calm posture he exhibits as he watches Tooru with a small smirk. For the record, Tooru doesn’t know what’s worse: the drummer’s demeanour, or the fact that the way he’s sitting shows him a tiny sliver of tawny skin where his shirt lifts up.

Tooru’s going to hell, he’s sure of it.

“Wait a second,” he says, and he mentally pats his back for not stuttering through the sentence. “Does Nobuko not need convincing?”

“ _Bokuto_?” Iwaizumi corrects, his smirk slowly evolving into a grin. “Well, he did want to know a solid reason for converting to concert band for a couple of weeks, but one look at your violinist, and he was hooked.”

Tooru tries not to let out a whine at Iwaizumi’s explanation. If only he was as easy to convince as Bokuto, Tooru would’ve spread out his arms and said “ _I’m_ in this band, that’s a plus, trust me,” in a heartbeat. But something about Iwaiziumi’s drawl and ‘fuck-off’ attitude makes him want to lay off the charm for the time being. He won’t use it. Yet.

Instead, Tooru leans against Bokuto’s forgotten bass amp and raises a single eyebrow at the drummer before him. “What makes _you_ want to say no?”

“Eh?” Iwaizumi grunts, twirling one of his drumsticks between his fingers before he flicks it up and catches it neatly in the other hand. “How does that relate to my question?”

“Well, for one, it would make the convincing easier.”

Iwaizumi regards him with a scowl before he stretches and puts both of his hands behind his head, showing off those stupid biceps and extending the sliver of skin by a small inch. “True.”

Tooru sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Then he glances at the drummer and feels a small smile spread across his face. “You know Iwa-chan, I can ask my director to give you two credits and hours of service for this.”

“Iwa-chan?” Iwaizumi repeats, his hand stilling. The drumstick clatters to the floor.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru says again, testing the name on his lips. “Sounds much better that _Iwaizumi_ , that’s a bit of a mouthful, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t,” Iwa-chan says, his voice reaching a dangerous tone. “It’s my name.”

“Iwa-chan just sort of rolls out naturally.” Tooru presses on, ignoring the irritated look on the other’s face. “It’s the same with Daichi. I used to call him Sawamura, but that became too much of a hassle, so I changed it to Sawa-chan, but that got really annoying, really fast.”

“ _You_ changed it.” Iwa-chan deadpans. “Are you like this all the time?”

“Like what?” Tooru asks innocently, taking out his phone and idly checking the time. 5 minutes have passed. Too much time.

“Annoying. Boisterous. _Showy_.”

Tooru looks up to see Iwa-chan’s slowly reddening face and he makes a pout, flashing a peace sign at the drummer. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Iwaizumi sighs and pushes off the wall he’s been leaning on. “Look. I don’t have time for this. Either tell me why you really need me in the band or the deal’s off. I won’t even consider it.”

Tooru sobers slightly, and he straightens in his seat and nods. “I need a percussionist.”

Iwaizumi snorts, grabbing a bag from off the ground and slipping his sticks into it. A quick check at the structure of the bag and Oikawa confirms that it is, in fact, one of the university’s older mallet bags.

“A percussionist? Don’t you have millions of those in your faculty?”

Tooru lets out a small huff of annoyance. “I wish.” He says darkly. “They all drop out by the third year.”

Iwaizumi stills. “Aren’t you like the top conductor this year? Can’t you easily get someone into your ensemble?”

“Aww, Iwa-chan, I’m flattered.” Tooru gripes, revelling at the scowl Iwaizumi sends him. “But it’s not that simple. Ushiwaka-chan has all the percussionists this year.”

“Ushi _waka_?” Iwaizumi says numbly. He opens his mouth to add something, but Tooru waves him off.

“I just need one really good percussionist this year, and I can get the bass and cello players to help with mallet percussion and timpani, but I really need somebody on auxiliary.” Tooru sighs, looking down at his shoes. The white logo on them is stained. He should wipe it. Blinking he looks up and meets Iwaizumi’s calm expression with a soft smile. “I don’t know who else to ask.”

Iwaizumi swings the mallet bag onto his shoulder and motions for Tooru to get off of the amp. The two are quiet for a long moment as he packs the amp into its case and hauls it towards the curtain’s entrance.

“What’s the real reason?”

“The what now?”

“The _real_ reason.” Iwaizumi turns around, crosses his arms and squints at Tooru. “You orchestra kids never do anything just ‘cause you want to. You always have an ulterior motive. Trust me, I know. So? Spill it, pretty boy.”

Tooru flushes at the name and lets out a small chuckle. “You really want to know?”

“Shoot.”

“Well, it begins with Ushiwaka.”

“Ushiwaka?” Iwaizumi’s mouth scowls around the name. “Ushijima Wakatoshi?”

“Yeah.” Tooru deadpans. “Him. Anyways, he and I were pretty good in the first year, but then he decides he wants to surpass me in every way, shape and form, and he’s all stoic about it too. He never brags, he never rubs it in my face, he’s just there. It’s annoying, really.

“Anyways last year, around the ensemble concert back then, I was under Irihata-chan’s band, and our feature soloist was this snotty first year Tobio-chan. God, he was so annoying. Played the trumpet and the viola like he ruled the musical world and didn’t let the rest of us have a taste of his spotlight.” Tooru snorts. “He also followed me around a lot, it was actually kind of annoying.

“So Tobio-chan begins to miss practice after a while until one week, he doesn’t come to any rehearsals and Irihata-chan’s getting really pissed and stuff, and I walk into practice one morning, and I completely forgot that it wasn’t _our_ rehearsal day, but I’m glad I did, because when I walked into the room, I saw Tobio-chan playing a solo, _his solo_ with Ushiwaka-chan’s band. I didn’t know what to say because, for one, he sounded really good, but not just on his own, he sounded better with Ushiwaka’s band than he ever did with ours. And so when I confronted him about it after, all he said was that he’d gotten a better offer at Ushiwaka’s.

“I mean, back then it wasn’t too much of a deal. Irihata-chan just brushed it off and pushed me and Mad Dog-chan to share the solo instead, but this year, Ushiwaka-chan took both my percussionist and my bassist, and that’s not really fair. So I need you to help me push him down a couple of notches.” Tooru sends Iwaizumi a small smirk. “And maybe he’ll learn where he places in this university.”

Iwaizumi looks surprised, to say the least. He awkwardly trudges past Tooru, grabs a beanie from off the table that sits in the middle the room and puts it on. He opens his mouth for a moment, then closes it, obviously trying to find the right words to say.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Iwa-chan.” Tooru giggles, earning himself a scowl and a flick to the ear.

"So wait, let me get this straight. You want me to play the percussion for your ensemble not only for you to get a passing grade, but also because you want to see this so-called Ushiwaka and his--what was it--accomplice Tobio-chan to fall to their knees at your mercy?"

Tooru's eye twitches, but he nods anyway. "That's the idea."

Iwaizumi bites his thumb for a solid two minutes before he straightens and looks Tooru in the eyes. “Alright, I’ll bite.”

“Really?” Tooru nearly tackles Iwaizumi to the floor. “You’ll do it?”

Iwaizumi sends him a smile before he pushes the bass amp out the curtains. “Sure, when’s the first practice.”

“Tomorrow morning, 7:00.”

Iwaizumi freezes. “You’re kidding me.”

Tooru smiles. “Nope.” He walks past Iwaizumi, a swing in his step. “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow, Iwa-chan.” Walking up to Suga and Daichi, he sends the man a bright smile before he heads out with his friends.

“You’re full of shit, Shittykawa!” he hears Iwaizumi yell. Covering his giggle with the back of his hand, he waves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **Iwaizumi Hajime (@zumesofficial)** tweeted
> 
> great turnout tonight! @acesofficial
> 
>  
> 
> **Iwaizumi Hajime (@zumesofficial)** tweeted
> 
> trying out some new music...classical anyone? “[ http://pic.twitter.com/cle2na ](http://pic.twitter.com/cle2na)..”
> 
>  
> 
> **Bokuto Koutarou (@officialowl)** tweeted
> 
> @zumesofficial t AKE CARE OF MY BABY SARAH HASNT SEEN THE LIGHT IN YEARS
> 
>  
> 
> **Aces (@acesofficial)** tweeted
> 
> @zumesofficial tries out a new style with @officialowl’s upright bass Sarah
> 
>  
> 
> **Kuroo Tetsurou (@kutrootitties)** tweeted
> 
> @acesofficial @officialowl remind me why i let you name it that again?

  
  


“I can’t believe you actually got Zumes to join!” Kuroo practically howls, sprawled across Suga and Tooru’s shared couch. Tooru resists the urge to grab the throw pillow and hit the bastard in the face, and from the look of Suga’s whitened knuckles, he’s doing the same.

“I appreciate the support.” Tooru deadpans, rolling his eyes. He ignores the wiggling mess on his couch and stalks to the fridge, pulling out a pocari and a sandwich. Suga, who’s sitting on the floor with his laptop on his lap eyes Kuroo warily.

“He kept texting me last night!” Kuroo manages to whip out his phone in the middle of his laughing fit and thrusts the screen into Tooru’s face. Sure enough, Tooru can see Iwaizumi’s brash personality through the harsh words of his texts, and the lack of kaomojis that he uses.

“Whatever,” Tooru sniffs, pushing the phone back onto Kuroo’s trembling chest. “At least I have my ensemble complete for the recital. Ushiwaka-chan’s not going to stand a chance.”

Suga looks up from his laptop screen to give Tooru a small, angelic smile. “I’m glad, Tooru.”

Kuroo’s laughter stops and Tooru looks distastefully down at him. “Yeah, yeah, be glad for Tooru,” he says sarcastically. He pushes himself up using his forearms until his nose almost touches Tooru’s. “Let’s just hope that he _works_ with your band, shall we?”

Tooru scowls, pushing Kuroo’s face away with his finger. Ignoring Kuroo’s smirk, he snatches his bag from the counter and waves at the two before heading out the door.

“I’ll be back at three!” he calls. “Bye Suga-chan!”

“What, no farewell for your favourite?” Kuroo calls.

“Fuck you!”

“All right.”

  
  


“Okay, let’s go from bar 74 _again_ ,” Tooru sighs, tapping his temple with the tip of his baton. His flute section looks like they want to murder him, and he can’t blame them. They’ve gone over the section a total of twelve times, and thirty-second notes get extremely tiring after a while. Over the rim of his glasses, he sees Iwaizumi at the timpani, lip bit in concentration.

He counts the band in and listens as the flutes do their runs over the crescendos in the bass, and when the timpani solo in bar 82 begins, everything falls apart.

It’s not that Iwaizumi isn’t good. That was evident last night in front of half the campus and had been evident in the past two songs when his rolls and flams shone. However, when Iwaizumi is put on anything other than snare and bass, his talent disappears.

Tooru tries to send a glare to the drummer but is met with an equally harsh stare. Cutting off the band, he lets out a frustrated groan. Half of his flutes mutter in agreement. Setting his baton down on the stand, he waves his arms in dismissal. “Take a ten-minute break guys,” he sighs, sitting down. “You deserve it. Especially you, flutes. Buy yourselves a drink or something.”

The flutes titter in agreement and the band disperses. Tooru can’t spend all of his time on one section, and he decides to move on from the song. Clicking his tongue, he takes off his glasses and heads over to the vending machine, fishing out enough coins for a milk tea. As he stands in line for the machine, he hears Iwaizumi’s loud laughter. Craning his neck, he sees Iwaizumi leaning against the parking lot doors, one arm around Bokuto, the other holding a water bottle. Surrounding him are half the girls in the band. Tooru watches as Bokuto expresses a story, arms expressing the importance of the events. Iwaizumi’s smile turns into a smirk, and he mutters something, causing the girls, and Tooru’s stomach, to squeal.

“Oikawa-san,”

Tooru lets out a scream, jumping back a couple of feet before he recognizes Akaashi’s deadpan expression. The violinist rolls his eyes before he takes a sip of his water bottle, eyeing Bokuto and Iwaizumi with a wary eye.

“Kei-chan,” Tooru grumbles, punching in his order. “You scared me.”

Akaashi doesn’t reply, expression changing from sour to murderous. “Oikawa-san can you hurry? Bokuto-san looks like he wants to come here.”

Tooru stifles a giggle. “Why? Has he done something?”

Akaashi takes another sip of his water, eyes never leaving Bokuto. “He keeps talking to me. He’s very... _loud_.”

As if to prove Akaashi’s point, Bokuto lets out a laugh, the sound full and round, travelling to fill every space in the room. Akaashi rolls his eyes, but his ears turn red. Tooru’s about to make fun of him, but he hears Iwaizumi’s deep laughter. Turning around, he sees Iwaizumi staring at one of the girls with an open smile.

Tooru pouts. Biting the inside of his cheek, he gestures weakly at Iwaizumi. “Do you think he’s faking it?”

“Faking what, Oikawa-san?” Akaashi replies.

“His playing.” Tooru clarifies, taking a sip of his milk tea. “I saw it last night, Kei-chan. He’s really good. Daichi and Suga-chan seem to agree too, but he doesn’t seem to click with the band.”

Akaashi nods once. His long fingers play with the cap of his water bottle nervously. “Kuroo-san talked to me yesterday after the concert.”

“The concert?” Tooru stops mid-sip. “You mean the Aces’ one last night?”

Akaashi blushes a scarlet red and nods. “Kuroo told me to watch. He wanted me to meet someone.”

Tooru remembers Iwaizumi’s words from last night. _One look at your violinist, and he was hooked._ Tooru nods numbly before he gestures for Akaashi to continue.

“I saw the way he played last night, Oikawa-san. The way he played reminded me of when Akiteru and Kei used to play together before Akiteru left for America. There was a lot of passion in there.” Akaashi pauses, grey eyes flitting over Iwaizumi before they land on Tooru. “He loves what he’s doing Oikawa-san.”

“But how does it relate to his playing now?”

Akaashi doesn’t answer, choosing instead to take a sip of his water. “Have you ever heard of the prodigy percussionist that quit orchestra a couple of years ago?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard _of_ him.”

Akaashi hums. “Maybe you should ask Ushijima-san or Kageyama-kun about it. They might be able to help you.”

Tooru scowls. “Ushiwaka?”

“Try it. You might like what you’ll find.” Akaashi encourages, looking back at Iwaizumi and Bokuto one last time. Tooru glances behind him and sees Iwaizumi’s eyes trained on him, dark eyes burning a hole into Tooru’s face. Beside him, Bokuto has his arm around one of the flute players, smile wide and welcoming. Akaashi’s hand grabs Tooru’s elbow and Tooru turns to find the violinist’s face twisted into a scowl. It isn’t a good look on his face. “Oikawa-san, when was the last time you played _Nocturne_?”

Tooru frowns. “ _Nocturne_? Wasn’t that last semester’s project?”

Akaashi nods. “I’d like to play it if that’s alright with you.”

Tooru nods. “Okay, Kei-chan. Follow me.”

When they enter the room, Tooru notices that it’s empty, so he sits down at the piano. Akaashi puts down his water and gestures to Tooru’s cello at the front of the room. “Would you rather play the strings Oikawa-san?”

Tooru hesitates but nods, standing up to grab his cello and a chair, situating them near the piano. Akaashi pushes back his hair from his eyes before he begins playing lightly as Tooru tightens his bow and checks the tuning of each of his strings. Once Tooru’s done tuning, he nods once at Akaashi before he begins to play.

It’s one of Akaashi’s favourite songs, Tooru remembers belatedly. Akaashi’s body sways with the music, and his fingers dance along the piano’s keyboard. The project had them take Chopin’s _Nocturne_ and create an arrangement that changed the song but kept the overall melody intact. He still remembers the entire arrangement, written on sheet music; however, he improvises now as Akaashi takes the melody from the cello and plays it through the piano.

Tooru spares a glance at Akaashi, and he watches, mesmerised as he swells and dies with the crescendos. His eyes are closed, and he moves with the music. When he’s playing, Akaashi is beautiful, even more, beautiful than he is when he smiles. Tooru remembers the summer showcase in his first year. Akaashi had played Saint-Saens’ _Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso_ and his performance had the entire faculty in awe. The two had just become friends at that time, and Tooru remembers letting go of all the jealousy he had felt for Akaashi at the time, and instead took in the beauty of his playing.

Akaashi’s melody turns into a multitude of improvised runs and Tooru takes over, fingers and bow moving over the strings. He closes his eyes and lets the song take over. He can hear Akaashi in the background, however, he focuses on the feeling of the strings under his fingers, the sound of the vibrato he creates. As he plays, he remembers last semester’s recital, and how he’d played this with Akaashi and Tsukishima, all three of them on strings. Each had their own improvised section, each had their own style of playing, but they created a piece that evoked the romantic sense of the song, and the sorrow found in love. Tooru tries to evoke the same sense; however, he finds himself thinking of a pair of dark eyes.

When the song finishes, Tooru lets out a long sigh before the sound of applause hits him. Opening his eyes, he sees his ensemble standing at the door, some of their faces expressing awe, some in terror. He hears it again, the whispers of the others. _He’s world-renowned,_ he hears one say, _studied in Boston and everything. No wonder he’s so good._ Another replies, _But Oikawa-san, he’s a Japanese legend. He didn’t have to go anywhere to get so good_. Tooru turns to congratulate Akaashi, but he finds that the other’s eyes are staring right at Bokuto.

Tooru frowns, watching as Bokuto’s facial expression turns from joy to excitement, and his mouth forms Akaashi’s name heard above the applause. The girl from earlier is nowhere to be found and Tooru can already see Akaashi’s smile. Tooru stands and is about to start practice once again when a pair of dark eyes meet his. Iwaizumi’s mouth lifts into a smirk, and he nods, lifting his bottle as if to cheer him on.  
  
  


“Great practice today!” Tooru calls as the band leaves the room. Akaashi, who’s loosening his bow, sends Tooru a smile and a thumbs up. Behind him, Bokuto packs up his string bass, animatedly talking to Akaashi, who offers a suggestion every once in awhile. When they leave, Akaashi waves and Bokuto glances once at Iwaizumi before waving as well.

“I’ll see you on Wednesday, Oikawa-san.” Akaashi calls.

“You too, Kei-chan!” Tooru replies, filing away the rest of the music. By now the only two left are Iwaizumi and Tooru. As Tooru files away the music and puts back the remaining stands, Iwaizumi makes sure that the drums and percussion are stored away properly. Five minutes after everyone is gone, Iwaizumi clears his throat.

“I’m sorry.”

Tooru looks up from his music. Iwaizumi’s leaning against the cupboards in the back. He looks good, white t-shirt stretched slightly at his biceps, showing the taut muscle underneath. He runs a hand through his hair, and Tooru spots the skin between the t-shirt and his dark, ripped jeans. Tooru swallows.

“About what?”

“Earlier. Everything.” Iwaizumi shrugs, hands resting on his hips. His eyes stay on the snare drum, and his leg shakes like he wants to play it. “I’m sorry I kind of ruined your rehearsal.”

Part of Tooru wants to shrug and say “you kind of did”, but the other part of him sees the genuine regret in Iwaizumi’s eyes. Biting his lip, he takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t say “it’s okay” or “you can do better next rehearsal”. Instead, he purses his lips and asks “Have you heard of the prodigal percussionist?”

Iwaizumi freezes and he straightens, arms moving to cross over his chest. “Shit.” he chuckles, mouth forming a lazy, lopsided smile. “Did Kuroo tell you?”

Tooru shrugs. “No, Akaashi did,” Iwaizumi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Plus, I don’t know anything about the percussionist, I just know _of_ him. Akaashi told me to ask you.”

Iwaizumi purses his lips. Tilting his head back, he frowns slightly. “I can tell you this: he really was _something_. He quit around the same time I started to find the music program insufferable.”

 _“Insufferable_?” Tooru can’t quite seem to match the word up with the program he adores so much. “How so?”

“Everything about you kids,” Iwaizumi says, head straightening as he regards Tooru with a calculating stare. “Is about the grade. Your performances are graded, your personalities. The way you hold your instrument, the way you wave a baton. Hell, even the way you _write music_ is graded. Even if there isn’t a number attached to that grading, you’re still being judged.”

“So?” Tooru loosens the strings on his bow. His voice issues a challenge and the tone causes Iwaizumi’s brow to lift. “Welcome to university, dumbass.”

“What I _meant_ is,” Iwaizumi continues, his mouth smiling at Tooru’s comment. “There’s no room for musicality. Music is like art. Well, music _is_ an art. It’s up for interpretation. Something may sound good to one person and sound terrible to another. In your program, I felt that there was no room for creativity. Everything was so structured, and I felt trapped. When Kiyoko offered me a spot in Aces’, I tried it. Fell in love. There really aren’t any restrictions when it comes to _making_ music.”

Tooru blinks before he places his bow into its case. “You’re actually quite smart, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi’s smile disappears, replaced by the scowl that resides almost permanently on his face. “Don’t call me that. Shittykawa.”

Tooru stops mid-action. His mouth hangs open. “ _Shittykawa_? Mean, Iwa-chan, mean!”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes before he pushes himself off of the cupboards and grabs his jacket. “I meant it by the way.” At Tooru’s confused expression, he clears his throat. “The apology.”

Tooru nods, snapping his cello’s case closed. “What was up with that, anyways?”

Iwaizumi’s mouth pulls into a frown. “I’m not used to playing classical music yet. It’s been a while. I haven’t found my niche.”

Tooru watches as Iwaizumi pulls his jacket on. His shirt rides up for a longer period of time and Tooru’s eyes latch on to the dark trail of hair that leads to the hem of his jeans. “Well,” he begins, eyes snapping back to Iwaizumi’s face. “Maybe you’ll find it here.”

Iwaizumi smiles, dark eyes boring into Tooru’s. “Yeah. Maybe.”  
  
  


**[Group]** **_Akaashi Keiji (akaashi.keiji@fukuro.jp), Tsukishima Kei (k_tsukishima@karasu.jp)_ **

 

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:08]:** guys i need your wonderful brains

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:10]:** gUYS

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:11]:** im gonna spam if you don’t answer

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:15]:** you asked for it

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:15]:** akaashi has a crush on bokuto

 **Akaashi Keiji [20:15]:** oikawa-san what do you want?

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:16]:** wow you answered

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:16]:** dOES THAT MEAN YOU LIKE BOKUTO

 **Akaashi Keiji [20:17]:** i did not say such a thing

 **Akaashi Keiji [20:18]:** once again what do you want

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:18]:** you /totally/ have a crush on bokuto

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:18]:** i finally have some beef on you

 **Akaashi Keiji [20:19]:** how was iwaizumi-san today

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:20]:**...shut up

 **Tsukishima Kei [20:25]** : ferme ta putain de gueule

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:25]:** ummm tsukki

 **Tsukishima Kei [20:25]:** shut the fuck up

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:25]:** shut ur fucking face, real original tsukki

 **Tsukishima Kei [20:27]:** stop using google translate

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:29]:** fine let me ask this first

 **Tsukishima Kei [20:30]:** im trying to learn

 **Akaashi Keiji [20:30]:** it’s noon there isn’t it

 **Tsukishima Kei [20:30]:** yes

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:31]:** if someone is unfamiliar with a genre of music, how do you familiarize them??

 **Tsukishima Kei [20:40]:** are you stupid?

 **Tsukishima Kei [20:40]:** listen to the new type of music

 **Akaashi Keiji [20:41]:** is this about iwaizumi-san?

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:41]:** fuck off tsukki

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:41]:** yes

 **Akaashi Keiji [20:42]:** take him to see the philharmonic.

 **Akaashi Keiji [20:45]:** their percussion section is lovely

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:46]:** ooh good idea kei-chan

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:46]:** you’re such a big help

 **Oikawa Tooru [20:46]:** unlike /some/ people

 **Tsukishima Kei [22:30]:** whatever

  
  


**To Tetsu-chan  
** So like if somebody wants to learn a new style of music, what do I do?

 **From Tetsu-chan  
** Are you stupid??  
Listen to the songs. If you don’t like it, you don’t like it.  
If you do, good on you

 **To Tetsu-chan  
** asdfgshfd  
I hate you

 **From Tetsu-chan  
** ahh i see where this is going  
Teach him how to cello  
It’s hot

 **To Tetsu-chan  
** Ummm

 **From Tetsu-chan  
** trust fam  
when have i ever been wrong?

 **To Tetsu-chan  
** the korean-chipotle place, the sketchy izakaya, the love hotel with the creepy receptionist, the crappy karaoke bar, that one blind date with that kid from america, the weird halloween place, the sketchy eatery where suga almost died, that one time you almost killed daichi, the one time you said the car was fixed and you almost ran over that old lady, that…[click to expand]

 **From Tetsu-chan  
** okay i get it!

 **To Tetsu-chan  
** that one time in high school where you dated that college girl, when you accidentally dropped you guitar in kyoto, when you got us lost in osaka, that one weekend where you said we could borrow your parents summer home, when you almost killed kei-chan with a volleyball, the sketchy pho place downtown, that one time you said it wasn’t marijuana, the…[  click to expand ] 

**From Tetsu-chan  
** shut the hell your fucking face  
  
  


“Remind me again why we’re here.” Iwaizumi deadpans as he shuffles in his seat. Tooru had told him to dress semi-formal, so he’s traded his usual t-shirt and jeans for a pair of slacks and a cream button-down shirt. It’s a good look on him.

“You wanted to find your niche, right?”

Iwaizumi looks at Tooru like he’s sprouted two heads. “Yeah,” he says slowly as if he were talking to a child. “In your band, not at the fucking Tokyo Philharmonic!”

Ignoring the scandalized looks around him, Tooru twists in his seat until his torso faces Iwaizumi. “Tetsu-chan said that it would help!”

“Help with what?” Iwaizumi retorts gruffly. “And why the hell would you take advice from Kuroo?”

Tooru sniffles, twisting back so that he faces the front. The performance’s song list sits in his hand and he lets his hand trail down the repertoire before he finds a song. “This one,” he says moving the pamphlet closer to Iwaizumi so he can see the title of the song. “Has very, _very_ good use of percussion.”

Iwaizumi nods. “And?”

“I want you to watch the percussionists,” Tooru says. The lights in the amphitheatre begin to dim, and he leans back in his seat. “Listen to them, watch them.”

“Easy enough,” Iwaizumi says, scratching his ear. His voice gets huskier as he changes his tone to a murmur. He leans towards Tooru, breath tickling his ear as he speaks “Why, though?”

“You said that music was an art,” Tooru replies as the orchestra tunes. He turns to face Iwaizumi and almost jolts back at the close proximity they’re in. Tooru takes a shallow breath, and Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. Under the shadows of the mezzanine, he can count the small freckles that dot Iwaizumi’s nose. He can feel the other’s breath on his cheeks.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says, his voice sending a rumble through Tooru’s chest. “I did.”

“Well,” Tooru says as the orchestra breaks into song. The applause fades and Iwaizumi’s face becomes washed in golden light. “It’s time to watch the artist.”  
  
  


The song that Tooru had referred to is called _Suite from “On the Waterfront_ ”. When the soft opening begins, he grabs onto Iwaizumi’s arm, pointing excitedly at the orchestra. Iwaizumi nods once, leaning forward in his seat. As the soft melody transforms into harsh percussion, he sees Iwaizumi’s hands immediately go to his thighs, tapping out the simple rhythms. Tooru watches as he moves his hands with the band, watches as his eyes never leave the percussionists.

Tooru can barely keep his smile off of his face, and as the first movement tapers off, he watches as Iwaizumi’s form relaxes. The drummer turns his face and gives Tooru a lopsided smile. Leaning forward, his face nearly hits Tooru’s. For a split second, Tooru thinks he’s going to kiss him. Instead, he moves forward, lips brushing Tooru’s ear.

“I get it.”

“Do you?” Toru smirks.

“Yeah I do.”

Tooru’s about to reply when the next movement begins, and Iwaizumi leans back, watching the orchestra with the same rapt expression as before. Letting out a sigh, Tooru leans back, trying not to think of the feel of Iwaizumi’s breath against his ear.

  
  


 

 

 

> **Iwaizumi Hajime (@zumesofficial)** tweeted
> 
> a change of style, a change of mind
> 
>  
> 
> **Oikawa Tooru (@oiktooru)** tweeted
> 
> it’s always nice to see the philharmonic...new ideas await! v(｡･ω･｡)♪
> 
>  
> 
> **Kuroo Tetsurou (@kurootitties)** tweeted
> 
> is everyone going to see the philharmonic today? @officialaces gig tomorrow night at the quad!  
>    
>    
> 

Tooru walks into his kitchen and finds Kuroo on the counter, a bowl of cereal in one hand, and Tooru’s favourite mug in the other. Rolling his eyes Tooru ignores him, and heads straight to the fridge, grabbing a melon pan. Kuroo winks at him as he brings the cup to his mouth, drinking its contents with a loud, obnoxious slurp.  

“Zumes blew up my phone last night.”

“Oh?” Tooru raises a brow as he takes a bite. “What for?”

“Something about classical music.” Kuroo raises a brow at Tooru. Taking a bite of his cereal, he gestures at Tooru with the spoon. “I’m totally blaming you, by the way. There’s literally no one else who listens to classical other than you.”

“Kei-chan does,” Tooru protests. “It’s not bad to listen to classical music.”

Kuroo narrows his eyes. “The last time Zumes listened to classical music willingly was during his first year when he was _still_ in the orchestra.” he pauses, spoon halfway between the bowl and his mouth. “Oh my god. You’re turning Zumes into a classical music freak!”

“A _classical music freak_?” Tooru sputters. “At least I don’t obsessively try to kill people with bad food.”

“Excuse me,” Kuroo snaps. “After everything I do for this family, for this _horrible, dysfunctional_ family, is for you and Suga. I put up with your whiny personality and with Suga’s badly-disguised kinks and what do I get in return? Your whining ass. I put food on the table for you, honey. It may not be good food, but _at least it feeds us_.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tooru retorts incredulously.

“This family,” Kuroo repeats, face turning red. “Is a result of the sacrifices that I have made. I deliberately choose those restaurants because I know that the food there is interesting and that it is healthy for us!”

“All you’ve done for us is feed our allergies. The last time you got food for this family, Daichi had to go to the hospital because you forgot he had a peanut allergy.”

“So?” Kuroo scoffs. “People forget about allergies all the time.”

“ _I was with you when you bought the cake_.” Tooru hisses. “I specifically remember telling you not to get peanuts.”

“All I did was buy a cake.”

“A _peanut_ cake.”

“Guys,” Suga interjects, voice thick with sleep. He walks into the kitchen, Daichi’s t-shirt thrown haphazardly onto his small frame, a line of hickeys running from his ear down to his collarbone. He sends Tooru a weary glare. “Can we please not do this? It’s seven in the morning.”

“Whatever,” Kuroo says, placing the bowl and the mug on the counter. He jumps onto the ground, not once breaking eye contact with Tooru. “Suga! I’ll see you later.”

Suga watches helplessly as Kuroo walks out. There’s the sound of a door closing behind him and Daichi walks out, mouth pulled into a deep scowl. He wraps his arms around Suga’s waist, burying his face into the crook of his neck and makes a quiet, low groan.

“The least he could’ve done was washed the dishes,” Suga mutters sadly. Frowning, he looks at the door. “Motherfucker!”

“Oedipus complex!” Kuroo retorts, voice echoing through the hallway.

Ignoring Tooru’s stifled giggles, and Daichi’s low humming, Suga covers his face with his hands and groans.

“Fuck.”

 

  


 

 

 

> **Kuroo Tetsurou (@kurootitties)** tweeted
> 
> smh when @oiktooru doesnt appreciate your efforts
> 
>  
> 
> **Sawamura Daichi (@sawamuradai1)** tweeted
> 
> smh when @kurootitties tries to kill you with a peanut cake
> 
>  
> 
> **Kuroo Tetsurou (@kurootitties)** tweeted
> 
> @sawamuradai1 smh when @sugakou has a mommy kink
> 
>  
> 
> **Aces (@acesofficial)** tweeted
> 
> throwback to when @kurootitties had actual hair “[ http://pic.twitter.com/a9lojs… ](http://pic.twitter.com/a9lojs%E2%80%A6)”
> 
>  
> 
> **Kuroo Tetsurou (@kurootitties)** tweeted
> 
> @acesofficial @sugakou motherfucker
> 
>  
> 
> **Sugawara Koushi (@sugakou)** tweeted
> 
> @kurootitties oedipus
> 
>  
> 
> **Oikawa Tooru (@oiktooru)** tweeted
> 
> @sugakou @kurootitties will yOU GUYS JUST STOP I LITERALLY HAVE NO SANITY LEFT STOP FIGHTING
> 
>  
> 
> **Oikawa Tooru (@oiktooru)** tweeted
> 
> i hate it when mommy and daddy fight @sugakou @kurootitties
> 
>  
> 
> **Sugawara Koushi (@sugakou)** tweeted
> 
> @oiktooru stop
> 
>  
> 
> **Kuroo Tetsurou (@kurootitties)** tweeted
> 
> @oiktooru classical music freak  
>    
>    
> 

Tooru watches in amazement as Iwaizumi plays each of his passages perfectly. As they finish off their last song, he catches Akaashi’s eyes and the two of them share a silent conversation before he cues Iwaizumi’s last sequence: a two bar timpani roll. The roll is tuned perfectly, adding the right amount of tension into the song. As the band finishes with their last run, Tooru grins. Putting down his hands, he watches as the players talk animatedly with each other. Some begin to laugh, others are grinning. Tooru looks over all the players until he makes eye contact with Iwaizumi. The drummer rolls a stick between his fingers and sends Tooru a smirk. Tooru waits until the band calms down before he raises his arms.

“Great job everyone!” Tooru says, sparking a new wave of comments from the others. “As you all know we have a little bit more than a month until the recital. Our repertoire is coming together, but we still have one more piece that we need to learn.”

At this, Akaashi raises his head, eyes going wide as he realizes what Tooru’s about to say. Tooru ignores him, eyes sweeping across the band and makes eye contact with Bokuto who looks pleased to have been acknowledged. Bokuto raises his hand, nd Tooru nods.

“Another song?” he asks, fingers worriedly moving over the fingerboard of his bass. “What song?”

Tooru fidgets, playing with his baton. “The thing is, I haven’t written it yet?”

Akaashi looks like he wants to throw his bow at Tooru.

“You haven’t written it?” Bokuto tilts his head, fingering different notes. “It’s an original piece?”

“It’s supposed to be an original piece, written by the composer.” Akaashi explains, closing his eyes. Tooru watches as Bokuto’s hands still on the bass, his attention entirely on Akaashi. “The last time I heard, Oikawa-san was halfway through the piece. We should be fine for the concert.”

The tension in the room decreases, and Tooru sends Akaashi a thankful glance. Akaashi rolls his eyes in response sending Tooru a pointed look before he tightens the strings on his bow.

Truth to be told, Tooru _had_ written half of the song, until he walked in on his professor praising Ushiwaka’s piece. In a fit of anger, he had listened to Ushiwaka’s song, cried about the beauty of it, and then proceeded to rip his own piece into shreds before furiously writing another piece. Unfortunately all of his newer versions sounded like replicas of Holtz’s _Mars_ , sans the musicality and more anger. Ultimately, Tooru has no song to give to the group, and he has less than three weeks to write a song.

He is so screwed.

“Yeah,” Tooru grins, putting on his best smile. “The song just needs a couple of tweaks here and there, but other than that it should be ready in time for you to learn it.” His eyes sweep along the band, meeting each one of the players’ eyes. However, when he reaches the percussion section, he finds that his eyes become locked to a pair of dark ones. From his spot behind the timpani, Iwaizumi sends him an unamused glare. Something tells Tooru that he can see straight through his facade.

“However” he continues, eyes never leaving Iwaizumi’s. “That does not mean that you should slack off on the other pieces. They all still need more work.” He winks at Iwaizumi, who smirks in return. Breaking the eye contact, he looks at his flute section, offering a smile and a wink. “Pack up. You guys did well.”

As the band hurries to pack their things, Tooru can’t help but notice the dark eyes that bear into his back.

  
  


 

 

 

> **Oikawa Tooru (@oiktooru)** tweeted
> 
> 1 month to go !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑   now… how to write a song?
> 
>  
> 
> **Akaashi Keiji (@keijiakaashi)** tweeted
> 
> It’s better not to put this on twitter Oikawa-san
> 
>  
> 
> **Sugawara Koushi (@sugakou)** tweeted
> 
> Your fave PR is back on...no thanks to the cat man!
> 
>  
> 
> **Aces (@acesofficial)** tweeted
> 
> Performance on the quad tonight!! Don’t miss it :)

  
  


“So,” Iwaizumi begins, one hand in his hair, the other on the wall. Tooru looks up from where he’s crouched on the floor. His cello lays on the ground in front of him. “You’re writing a song?”

Tooru laughs. “Trying to, at least.” he wipes his cello down. “I’ve got the idea of a song planned out, I just don’t have the actual music there. Like, I know what I want, I just don’t know how to formulate it into notes.” Tooru doesn’t look up, but takes Iwaizumi’s silence as a negative thing. “It’s like trying to word something but not knowing how. You know that feeling?”

When Tooru looks up, he finds Iwaizumi struggling not to laugh. “Of course I know.” he replies, laughter coming out in bursts. Torru pouts. “I’m a musician, remember? And I write most of Aces’ songs.”

Tooru looks up. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi sends him that lopsided smile again, and Tooru momentarily forgets how to breathe. “Well, sometimes I write the music and one of the others takes up the lyrics. Usually Kuroo takes up lyrics ‘cause he’s good at that shit. I’m better at writing melodies, or if you need simple, dumb songs, I’m up for that too.”

“Holy shit,” Tooru breathes, standing up. He stumbles slightly, and Iwaizumi’s hand comes up to his elbow, stabilizing him. “You could help me!”

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi tilts his head, giving Tooru a puzzled look. “How?”

Tooru pauses for a second. “Could you listen to some of it?”

Iwaizumi stiffens but he nods. As Tooru sets up his cello, Iwaizumi turns around, grabbing a stool from the percussion section and sits in front of Tooru. Tooru check the tuning of his strings before he tightens his bow and presses it to the strings.

“Ready?” Tooru asks, and at Iwaizumi’s nod he begins to play.

It’s a slow melody, one that shows the melancholy and frustration he feels whenever he thinks about Ushiwaka. He’s had the melody stuck in his head for months now and as he plays for Iwaizumi, he twists the melody into one for him.

Tooru doesn’t know how he does it; change the melody according to his emotions, but as he plays, the melancholy and sadness turns into longing and hope. The melody remains the same, but it seems brighter than it had been before. He opens one of his eyes and catches Iwaizumi with his eyes closed as well, body swaying with the music. They stay like that for a moment as Tooru plays a suspension, and when Iwaizumi pops open an eye, Tooru plays the melody again, this time full of love and hope.

Iwaizumi holds up a finger before he trots over to the piano, fingers hovering over the keys. He plays a couple of notes, intoning the key before he plays along, improvising just as much as Tooru is.

The melody they create, it’s _beautiful_.

It’s almost like a battle between the two of them. When Tooru’s part swells, so does Iwaizumi’s. The notes fight for dominance before one recedes slightly. The crescendos and decrescendos of the piece create a song full of hope, love, but also of assertiveness. It’s like Iwaizumi’s grabbing his hand and telling him that he’ll be there for him, until the end.

They finish the piece together, ending on a beautiful major chord before Iwaizumi’s fingers add a minor component into it, and the song becomes melancholy once again.

When they finish, Tooru nearly jumps up and hugs Iwaizumi, but he restrains himself, opting instead to send the other a smile. Iwaizumi sends one back, stretching his back.

“That sounds amazing, Oikawa.” he grins.

“Me, amazing?” Tooru laughs, his voice rising with his excitement. “What about you Iwa-chan!”

Immediately, Iwaizumi’s face falls. “Don’t call me that.”

Tooru ignores him. “You never told me you could play piano!”

Iwaizumi frowns. “I’m a musician.”

“Yeah, but I thought you were a hardcore drummer!”

“A _hardcore drummer_?” Iwaizumi sputters. “Shittykawa, just because I play the drums--”

“You didn’t even listen to classical music before yesterday!”

“Just because I play piano doesn’t mean I play classical music,” Iwaizumi scowls. His eyes flash dangerously and he stalks over to Tooru. “Pass me your cello.”

“My cello--no way in hell!” Tooru screeches as Iwaizumi swipes at the instrument. “There’s no way you’re getting your grimy hands on Kotone-chan!”

Iwaizumi stills. “You named your cello _Kotone_?” He bursts into laughter.

“Yeah,” Tooru puffs his cheeks, ignoring the way they flame up in embarrassment. “Why? Do you have a problem with it?”

“No,” Iwaizumi gasps between his laughter. “I just find it really funny.”

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru protests. “Mean! So mean!”

Iwaizumi stops his laughter only to finally grab Tooru’s cello. Shoving him off of his chair, Iwaizumi resumes his place, holding the instrument with gentle hands. He fingers the strings, and brings the bow to the strings, and that’s when Tooru bursts out into loud peals of laughter. Iwaizumi’s holding the bow wrong.

“What,” Iwaizumi snaps, obviously annoyed.

“You’re holding your bow wrong.” Tooru giggles. Reaching over, he takes Iwaizumi’s hand and adjusts the grip. “There. Now you can play.”

Iwazumi mumbles something about how Bokuto holds his bow. Tooru’s about to reply when the bow glides across the strings. Tooru is absolutely speechless. Although he plays many notes wrong, Iwaizumi has a good ear, and good tone. He watches at the other plays, adjusting his fingers now and then until he can play a full scale.

At Tooru’s surprised expression, he shrugs. “Bokuto taught me.”

“Bokuto taught you.” Tooru deadpans. “That’s it. You’re a musical god.”

Iwaizumi grins. “Nah, not really.”

“Yes, really.” Tooru gapes. “Drums, percussion, piano, bass and now cello. _A god.”_

Iwaizumi shrugs again. “By the way, there’s an Aces concert today at the quad.” He trails a finger along the C string. “Would you like to come?”

Tooru stares at him. He wonders how on earth he could have been _so blessed_ to meet this man. He thanks every god that’s listening for this moment. He must’ve taken too long because Iwaizumi rubs the nape of his neck.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want--”

“Yes!” Tooru exclaims. Iwaizumi looks surprised at the outburst, but he grins.

“Yeah, okay.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a card and hands it to Tooru. “Just hand this to the security officers when you get there. It’s supposed to be packed tonight.”

“Is it?” Tooru muses. “All right. I’ll be with Suga anyways, so I’ll be fine.”

“Also,” Iwaizumi pauses, slouching in his seat. “Could you meet me backstage after the show?”

Tooru blinks. “Yeah, sure.”

Iwaizumi grins, standing up. He hands Tooru his cello, their fingers accidentally tangling as he does so. Tooru blushes. Iwaizumi smirks.

“I’ll see you later.” he winks. Tooru isn’t sure he remembers how to breathe.

“Yeah,” he manages, as Iwaizumi walks out the door. “I will.”

“Oh, and Oikawa?”

“Yes?”

“Bring a jacket, it’ll be cold outside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ended up being 23 pages on google docs. I want to scream.
> 
> scream with me on [tumblr](http://toorutoast.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/toorutoast)!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he watches the band now, he sees what Shimizu means when she says that the band is her family. As the band finishes their last song, the five of them clump around the middle of the stage, arms around each other. Tooru watches as Iwaizumi looks up at the curtain that leads backstage. He says something that Tooru can’t pick up over the screams of the fans and soon enough Shimizu steps on stage, joining the embrace. It’s the perfect definition of family, of togetherness, of music. Tooru’s claps get louder.
> 
> Suga snaps a picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> special thanks to M who teaches me cello every single day, and to Cam who didn't know that I wrote this fic wow I love you.
> 
> (also not so special thanks to Eric who took me out on a date yesterday and prevented me from posting this chapter hahahahaaaaa)

**[Group] Titty Croissant**

**oiktooru:** guys i need your help  
**oiktooru:** tetsu-chan your field of expertise is needed

**kurootitties:** i heard my name  
**kurootitties:** oh wait  
**kurootitties:** im supposed to be mad at you

**oiktooru:** will you stop being a little bitch and help me  
**oiktooru:** please tetsu-chan  
**oiktooru:** ill love you forever  
**oiktooru:** kurpooooooooo

**sugakou:** kurpoo?  
**sugakou:** that sounds like a terrible brand of shampoo  
**sugakou:** anyways what do you need  
**sugakou:** i could probably help you

**oiktooru:** suga-chan!!!  
**oiktooru:** you’re a literal angel ilysm o(；△；)o  
**oiktooru:** so like what do you wear to an aces concert?

**kurootitties:** ohohoho  
**kurootitties:** oh wait mad right

**sugakou:** haha sorry oikawa-kun im bad at this lol  
**sugakou:** i dont really know um i just usually wear what im wearing already  
**sugakou:** kuroo has more expertise there

**oiktooru:** shit  
**oiktooru:** tetsu-channnnnn pleeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaase

**kurootitties:** fine, okay  
**kurootitties:** but only if…  
**kurootitties:** you let me take your lunch day this week

**oiktooru:** do you want me to die from food poisoning you bitch?

**kurootitties:** then im sorry i cant help u

**oiktooru:** okay fine  
**oiktooru:** but only this week  
**oiktooru:** and youd better be nice to me

**kurootitties:** wdym im always this nice  
**kurootitties:** so like is this for iwaizumi ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿  
**kurootitties:** cause im happy to help you ;)

**oiktooru:** shut the up fuck

**kurootitties:** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**oiktooru:** fuk u  
**oiktooru:** yes

**kurootitties:** ohohohohohoho  
**kurootitties:** wear those black ripped jeans you have  
**kurootitties:** maybe that white t-shirt with the nasa logo or that one band one, sth nerdy  
**kurootitties:** cause u are a nerd lolol  
**kurootitties:** and those shoes

**oiktooru:** okay first off fuck off i am not a nerd  
**oiktooru:** second of all which shoes

**kurootitties:** those nice white ones

**oiktooru:** which ones tetsu-chan i have a lot of whites

**kurootitties:** i forget, send me pics ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**oiktooru:** fine okay  
**oiktooru: [sent a picture]**

**kurootitties:** holy shit

**oiktooru:** what

**kurootitties:** /WHAT ARE THOSE/

**oiktooru:** im leaving

**kurootitties:** no pls dont  
**kurootitties:** wear the adidas

**oiktooru:** fine okay  
**oiktooru:** ill see you later

**sawamuradai1:** im literally gone for an hour and this is what i come back to?

**kurootitties:** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

  
  
  
  
  
  


“I can’t believe you actually came!” Suga giggles, falling back into his seat. Tooru rolls his eyes. It’s cold outside, so he’s glad he took Iwaizumi’s advice and had grabbed his high school volleyball sweater before he had left. Beside them, Akaashi looks like he would rather die than be here.

“Iwaizumi gave me a free pass,” Tooru reasons, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t want to refuse.”

“Of course,” Suga teases. He turns to Akaashi. “What about you.”

Akaashi pushes his face into the collar of his hoodie. It’s entirely too big on him, but he seems comfortable in it, inhaling the fabric. “Bokuto-san invited me,” he says simply, his face reddening slightly.

Suga grins. “See? At least somebody’s honest.”

Tooru frowns, taking his phone out. “Whatever.”

It’s still another ten minutes until the beginning of the show, so Tooru opens up his camera and snaps a picture of the stage, the  _ Aces’ _ logo on the bass drum illuminating the dark background on the stage. Suga peeks over his shoulder and grins at the picture.

“Could I use that for the official twitter?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tooru grins. He opens up his message thread with Suga and sends the picture. “Mr. PR Manager.”

“Oh please, I’m flattered.” Suga grins. Tooru’s about to reply when there’s a tap on his back. Turning in his seat, he’s surprised to see the girl from the last show peering down at him. She’s not dressed for a show today; rather, she’s wearing a pair of leggings and a sweater with the university’s sports insignia on the breast. Behind him, Suga reaches over, slinging an arm around Tooru to chirp at her. 

“Shimizu-san! What can I do for you?” 

She ignores him, dark eyes landing on Tooru’s. For the first time since elementary school, he’s frightened of a girl. Her pristine, innocent yet harsh look intimidates him, and he finds himself unconsciously leaning into Suga’s embrace. 

“Are you Oikawa-san?” Holy hell, even her voice is intimidating. Tooru barely gets out a squeaky ‘yes’ before he’s being pulled up by her small yet firm hand. “We need you backstage.”

“Wait!” Tooru manages to squeak out a response as he’s being dragged across the quad. Looking back helplessly, he caught Suga talking to Akaashi, more than likely telling him to save their seats. “What’s happening?”

“You’re a music expert right?” she asks, her voice as clear as a bell. Tooru’s about to nod when he remembers she can’t see him.

“Yeah,” he manages as she flashes her card at a security guard. He looks at Oikawa skeptically but seems to concede when Shimizu sends him a glare. “Well, not really?”

“Do you know how to replace a string?” 

“On a string instrument, sure.”

“A bass guitar.”

“Doesn’t Bokuto know how to replace a string?”

Shimizu lets out a sigh. “He does, but I don’t think he’ll properly manage.”

“Why?” Tooru asks as they reach backstage, but he takes the question already. As Shimizu places her hand on the doorknob, he can already hear the muffled screams coming from the other side. “Never mind,” he amends. “I’ll do it.”

“Good,” she says, and sees the genuine relief in her eyes. 

She opens the doors and all hell breaks loose. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


> **Oikawa Tooru (@oiktooru)** tweeted
> 
> note to self: dont get involved with aces. Ever.
> 
>  
> 
> **Shimizu Kiyoko (@shimizukiyoko)** tweeted
> 
> @oiktooru get yourself out early
> 
>  
> 
> **Sugawara Koushi (@sugakoushi)** tweeted
> 
> “ [ http://pic.twitter.com/b0ku2… ](http://pic.twitter.com/b0ku2%E2%80%A6) ”
> 
>  
> 
> **Bokuto Koutarou (@owlofficial)** tweeted
> 
> iT WAS NOT FUNNY I SWAR

  
  
  
  
  
  


It was a disaster. 

Tooru watches as the band finishes their last set, Kuroo and Daichi sharing the microphone as they sing melody to their last song. Behind them, Bokuto plays on his bass guitar, his muscles straining the tight t-shirt that Tooru knows is Kuroo’s. If he stares long enough, he can see the faint red lines that line his biceps. Terushima, their other guitarist, plays on their other side, his shirt long forgotten in the crowd. And behind it all, Iwaizumi’s in the back, playing the drums, and staring at both Terushima and Bokuto with a look of utter horror on his face.

Tooru doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

When he’d entered the room earlier, he was surprised to see Bokuto with his entire right arm covered in what seemed like a bass string. Kuroo had looked up at the sound of the door opening and sent Tooru a bewildered smile. 

“Tooru!” he exclaimed, arms extended. “Our saviour! I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Tetsu-chan,” Tooru replied wearily. Quickly, he sidestepped Kuroo’s impromptu hug and headed toward Bokuto. “What in the world happened?”

As he helped Bokuto untangle himself, his eyes swept across the room. In the corner, on a spare couch, Daichi had lied down, one hand strewn haphazardly over his eyes. Iwaizumi sat next to him, headphones over his ears, and a notebook in his lap. He looked up and met Tooru’s gaze, offering a nod and a small wave.

Daichi had let out a small whine. “He tried to fix the string himself.” he groaned. “Obviously it worked.”

Bokuto pouted. “Oikawa, they’re so mean to me! All I wanted to do was fix the string, and I know how to fix a string, I promise! But I got,” he paused, mouth formulating words. “...stuck”

Tooru nodded, fingers nimbly untangling the wire. It took him a little while, but he untangled Bokuto, who let out a small shout as he rubbed his arm. From the couch, Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. 

“Let’s see the bass,” Tooru mumbled as he wrapped the wire up. Kuroo nodded as he brought the bass guitar and a string. Tooru sighed as he got to work, restringing the bass. “What happened?”

“Well,” Bokuto began, as he took off his shirt. Tooru bit his lip and tried not to stare. “Like Kuroo said, I was trying to fix it, but I got tangled.”

“How?” Tooru mumbled as Bokuto rummaged through a spare duffel bag next to Iwaizumi’s feet. He watched as Bokuto pulled out a black shirt, humming as he did so.

“Bro?” he called to Kuroo. “Is this yours?”

Kuroo had looked up from his guitar, squinting at the fabric. “Yeah, that’s mine.”

“Mind if I borrow it, bro?”

“No, go ahead.”

“Sweet,”

“Yeah, bro.”

Bokuto had pulled the shirt on, fabric going taut against his broad frame. At Tooru, he squinted, as if he just realised that he’d asked a question. “Well,” he pursed his lips. “I had the string out but then I got really distracted.”

“ _ Really,”  _ Daichi emphasized from the couch. 

“I kind of ran around him, singing one of our songs,” Kuroo explained, having the audacity to look smug about it. He exchanged a hi-five with Bokuto.

Tooru finished tightening the string into place, tuning it as he did so. Grinning, he handed the instrument to Bokuto, who ran his fingers over the frets, testing out a couple of notes.

“Hey, hey, hey!” he shouted, and Tooru had to flinch away. “Thanks! It works perfectly.”   


Tooru could only manage a nod before Iwaizumi pulled off his headphones, stretching his limbs. Tooru tried not to stare. Today, Iwaizumi had chosen to wear a black muscle top and a pair of dark ripped jeans. From the side, Tooru could glimpse at his chest and could see the hard muscle that hid underneath the flimsy fabric.

“Let’s go,” Iwaizumi said gruffly. “Terushima’s already waiting backstage.”

The other members hooted as they ambled out of the room. Daichi closed his eyes and let out a long sigh as he pulled himself up from the couch. Iwaizumi left last, eyes catching Tooru’s. He sent a wink and a small smirk before he left.

“Thank you, once again,” Shimizu said, bowing. Tooru hurried to stop her.

“It was my pleasure, really.” Tooru watched the door wistfully. “Aren’t you supposed to be on too? I remember last time you performed.”

Shimizu hummed as she walked over to the duffel bag and began to stuff the clothes back in. “I was part of the original band, as a guitarist. However, my studies started to fall apart once the band gained more gigs.” She sighed as the muffled applause began. “We found Terushima a couple of months ago. Sometimes I perform with them, but more often than not I’m backstage. Almost like an impromptu manager. However, if Terushima’s not free then I’ll step in. I can’t seem to leave them, though. They’re like a family to me.” 

Tooru nodded. As the band began their first song, Daichi’s voice booming through the entire quad, Shimizu sent Tooru a small smile.

“You should go out to your seat now, Oikawa-san.” she smiled. “I can handle things from here.”

As he watches the band now, he sees what Shimizu means when she says that the band is her family. As the band finishes their last song, the five of them clump around the middle of the stage, arms around each other. Tooru watches as Iwaizumi looks up at the curtain that leads backstage. He says something that Tooru can’t pick up over the screams of the fans and soon enough Shimizu steps on stage, joining the embrace. It’s the perfect definition of family, of togetherness, of music. Tooru’s claps get louder.

Suga snaps a picture.

  
  
  
  
  


> **Aces (@acesofficial)** tweeted
> 
> Great turnout tonight!! Thanks to everyone for the support
> 
>  
> 
> **Aces (@acesofficial)** tweeted 
> 
> Special thanks to everyone who made this happen

  
  
  
  
  
“Come on, Oikawa!” Suga whines as he pulls on Tooru’s arm. Irritated, Tooru lets himself be dragged backstage. Akaashi trails behind them. The security guard from earlier nods at the three of them, letting them in. As Suga maneuvers towards the door that leads backstage, Tooru makes eye contact with Akaashi, who shrugs.

The moment Suga runs through the door, he lets go of Tooru’s arm, sending him tumbling. As he screeches, he slams into a body. Looking up shyly, his gratitude dies on his lips as he meets Kuroo’s sly glare. 

“Wow Oikawa, you’re quite literally falling for me now,” Kuroo smirks.

“Fuck off.” Tooru spits.

“Oh?” Kuroo quips. “Gladly.” He takes a step back and Tooru falls unceremoniously to the floor. 

“Tetsu-chan!” Tooru growls, and he looks up to find Kuroo laughing on the couch. Beside him, the other guitarist, Terushima peers at Tooru with wide eyes. Suga seems to have gravitated towards Daichi, the two of them talking in hushed tones as Daichi packs up one of the amps. On the other side of the room, Akaashi sits on a stool, Bokuto in front of him as he places his bass into its case. 

“Oikawa-san!” Shimizu calls and Tooru looks at the stage door to find her walking towards him. She has her jacket on. “Iwaizumi-san’s onstage if you want to see him.”

“Oh ho ho?” Kuroo laughs, arm around Terushima who winks at Tooru.

“Go get him!” he hollers, and Tooru feels his face heat up.

“Shut up!” he mutters as he walks onstage, bowing to Shimizu before he pushes through the door. The sound of Kuroo and Terushima’s combined laughter fades behind him.

The stage is cold, muted almost without the multitude of fans screaming across the quad. The only sounds left are Iwaizumi’s drumming, filling the empty spaces. Tooru stands idly at the door, letting the sound reach his ears. The sound reminds him of why Tooru had chosen Iwaizumi for his ensemble in the first place. Harsh, quick taps fade into soft mellow rolls and finishes with loud cymbals. As Iwaizumi finishes his rhythm, Tooru claps, loud enough so that the sound can be heard over the echoes of the drums. Iwaizumi looks up, his look of surprise melting into a small, smug smile. 

“Hey,” he says, resting his drumsticks on the snare. 

“Hi,” Tooru replies, walking slowly to the drumset. His steps echo. “Congratulations. You guys did great.”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “Yeah, well we couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Me?” Tooru chuckles, as he reaches the set. He trails a finger along the edge of a cymbal. “Why me?”

Iwaizumi looks up, and from the stage lights, Tooru can see the different colours in his dark eyes. What he had earlier seen as a dark brown exploded into multiple colours in the light. As Iwaizumi tilted his head, Tooru sees a kaleidoscope of colours reflect onto the white of the drums. Specks of green and blue hide in the brown of his eyes and Tooru feels himself get lost in them.

“Well,” Iwaizumi laughs, his head tilting. Tooru swallows and Iwaizumi’s eyes snap to his throat. “Nobody else knows how to replace a string.”

“Yeah?” Tooru murmurs. 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi grins. His eyes snap back up to Tooru’s as he leans forward in his chair. “Bokuto does, but he gets a little high-strung before performances.”

Tooru smiles and tears his eyes away from Iwaizumi’s, letting his gaze trail along the drums. He hums as Iwaizumi picks up the sticks, twirling them between his fingers. “Do you want to play?”

Tooru’s eyes snap back to Iwaizumi, who’s sitting comfortably in his seat. His shirt it sticky with sweat, clinging to the muscles on his abdomen. Tooru’s mouth goes dry. 

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi gestures to the set. “You can play if you want.”

Tooru laughs. “Iwa-chan, I may be a musical genius but I don’t have time to learn every instrument out there.” He glances at the hi-hat. “I don’t know how to play.”

“Yeah Shittykawa, I know.” Iwaizumi laughs, dusting his jeans off with the palms of his hands. He stands up with a small grunt, offering Tooru the sticks. “Come on I’ll teach you.”

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru protests, flustered. However, he sits down on the stool and is momentarily blinded by the lights. He accepts the sticks, holds them in his hands and half-heartedly hits the snare.

Tooru glances up at Iwaizumi and is taken aback by the fierce scowl that occupies his face. “You can do so much better than that.” he glowers at Tooru, who shrinks away. “Try again Shittykawa.”

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru says weakly, tapping the rim of the snare lightly. “I don’t know how to play.”

“I don’t care,” Iwaizumi says, crossing his arms and leaning on one hip. “Make some noise, do something. Just pretend you’re angry. Channel that anger through the sticks and onto the drums.”

“I don’t know how.”

Iwaizumi is quiet for a moment, dark eyes calculating as they stare at the bass drum. He snaps his fingers. “That song, for the recital.” His eyes travel to Tooru’s. “You haven’t written it yet. You won’t tell anyone why, but I have a feeling. You’re angry at someone. I saw it when Akaashi mentioned what you’d written. I heard it in the song you played yesterday. The cello isn’t exactly an angry instrument.”

“It can be,” Tooru mumbles.

“Can it?” Iwaizumi muses, fingers tapping a rhythm against his forearm. “I guess it can. It has a mellow tone, though. The drums are sharp, angry. Kind of like a beast you can’t tame.”

“Until you do,” Tooru interjects, eyes snapping to the drums. “You’ve tamed it.”

Iwaizumi looks surprised. “Yeah,” he laughs. “I guess so. What I mean to say is: try it. You don’t know what you’ll find.”

Tooru’s eyes snap up. Iwaizumi’s words match Akaashi’s. As he grips the sticks, he begins to hit the snare, in short, sharp bursts, loud enough that even Iwaizumi jumps slightly. He hits the drums with all the frustration he’s had pent up. 

There’s no real rhythm to Tooru’s movements. He hits the drums in quick succession, travelling from the snare to the bass to the toms and back again. He hits the cymbals with a crash, that gets a laugh out of Iwaizumi. Soon enough, Tooru’s laughing too, pure joy seeping out of his features as he releases his frustration through the instrument. His hands aren’t fast--nowhere near as fast as Iwaizumi’s can get--however, they carry as much power as Iwaizumi’s can. Soon enough, his arms get tired and he stops to take a breath. 

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru whines, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “Iwa-chan that’s  _ hard _ .”

Iwaizumi lets out a surprised bark. “Hell yeah it is,” he stalks over to Tooru, ruffling his hair. “It’s harder when you have to do it for sets at a time. Scoot over, I’ll teach you how to do an eighth note beat.

“I can do that,” Tooru pouts as he taps a simple eighth note rhythm on the snare. Iwaizumi stares at the sticks incredulously before he laughs.

“Of course you can.” he laughs, nudging Tooru over with his hip. Gently, he takes the sticks from Tooru, and he sets himself at the set. Tooru stands and watches as Iwaizumi positions himself and begins a slow, simple beat. It’s calmer than anything else he’s seen Iwaizumi play. Carefully, he watches Iwaizumi’s hand placement and the timing of the bass drum. Iwaizumi plays three sets before he stops and hands the sticks to Tooru.

“You try.” 

Tooru takes the sticks from Iwaizumi and tries the rhythm. Over his shoulder, Iwaizumi offers slight suggestions here and there until Tooru can play an even, continuous eighth note beat. 

“Iwa-chan,” he breathes, voice just shy of a whisper. “I did it!”

“Yes,” Iwaizumi nods, small smile breaking out on his face. “You did.” He walks over to the other side of the stage and grabs a stool. He places it by the drum kit and pats it twice, motioning for Tooru to move. He does. Iwaizumi sits at the drum kit again, hands moving across the drums, creating a rhythm that mesmerises Tooru. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


> **Oikawa Tooru (@oiktooru)** tweeted
> 
> ‘How to write a song 101’ sounds like a course i need
> 
>  
> 
> **Ushijima Wakatoshi (@ushiwakatoshi)** tweeted
> 
> I can offer tips as I am capable of writing songs @oiktooru
> 
>  
> 
> **Oikawa Tooru (@oiktooru)** tweeted
> 
> LEAVE ME ALONE

  
  
  
  
  
  


**[Group] Titty Croissant**

**sugakou:** oikawa daichi’s wondering if you want to come to rehearsal today

**sawamuradai1:** ...i never asked that

**kurootitties:** discourse

**sawamuradai1:** shut up kuroo  
**sawamuradai1:** where the hell are you and terushima anyways?

**kurootitties:** where do you think we are?  
**kurootitties:** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**sawamuradai1:** get the fuck back here right now or i swear to god i will cut both of your dicks off

**oiktooru:** woah daichi calm down  
**oiktooru:** and yeah sure ill come  
**oiktooru:** but like why would /you/ want me there

**sawamuradai1:** i told you it wasn’t me!

**kurootitties:** wow first off get ur mind out of the gutter sawamura  
**kurootitties:** teru and i are just getting some  
**kurootitties:** eggs

**oiktooru:** tetsu-chan what the fuck

**kurootitties: [sent a photo]**

**sugakou:** holy shit they’re actually getting eggs

**oiktooru:** wait  
**oiktooru:** are you two dating?

**kurotitties:** ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**oiktooru:** but like  
**oiktooru:** what about tsukki?

**kurootitties:** woah there  
**kurootitties:** tha’s the unspoken name  
**kurootitties:** we do not utter the unspoken name here  
**kurootitties:** im not gonna banish you but

**_kurootitties added zumesofficial and officialowl to the group_ **

**oiktooru:** TETSU-CHAN WHAT THE FUC K

**keijiakaashi:** kuroo-san

**_keijiakaashi has left the group_ **

**kurootitties:** oh no you dont akaashi

**_kurootitties added keijiakaashi to the group_ **

**owlofficial:** bro whats goi

**kurootitties:** ??  
**kurootitties:** bro i need full senteces

**owlofficial: [sent a picture]  
** **owlofficial:** HEY HEY HEY AKAASHI

**keijiakaashi:** hello bokuto-san

**oiktooru:** thats it im going to die  
**oiktooru:** im taking kuroo with me

**kurootitties:** hey

**oiktooru:** and when i die

**zumesofficial:** what the fuck is this

**oiktooru:** you can tell iwa-chan that i love him  
**oiktooru:** holy fuck

  
**_oiktooru has left the group_ **

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be a little bit longer but i wanted to end it there c: the next chapter will be 33 pages instead of 20 wow pls be proud of me
> 
> [tumblr](http://toorutoast.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/toorutoast)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah, just hop on. Put your feet--not there--ah there.” Iwaizumi puts his helmet back on. His voice comes out muffled. “Put your arms around me.”  
> “What?”  
> “You don’t want to fall, do you?”  
> “No.”  
> “Then hold on,” Iwaizumi says. Then he pushes off.

 

“It’s really not that bad,” Suga soothes as he runs his hand over Tooru’s hair. Tooru buries his face further into his pillow, letting out a long whine as he does so. 

“What do you mean it’s not that bad?” Tooru mumbles words nearly incoherent. Luckily, Suga understands him and runs a soothing hand down his back. 

“If it’s any consolation,” Suga says. “Daichi and I got together the exact same way.”

Tooru pops his head up, and Suga backs up slightly, eyes roaming around Tooru’s face. Tooru pouts, rubbing at his eye. Suga gently takes his wrist and pulls his arm away. “Iwa-chan is not Daichi.”

Suga hums. “That’s true. In any case, it can’t be that bad.” He takes out his phone and begins to scroll through it. His lip quirks at something he sees, and then his eyes darken. 

“What?” Tooru asks.

“Well, it’s not as bad as you may think it is,” Suga amends, pocketing his phone. “Iwaizumi-san hasn’t said anything yet.”

“Okay,” Tooru mumbles, feeling slightly better. 

“But Kuroo won’t shut his mouth.” Tooru’s heart plummets. “And he added you back to the group.”

“Motherfucker.” Tooru mumbles. Suga nods in agreement. 

“I have to go down to the rehearsal,” Suga sighs, standing up. “Feel free to come with, but I totally understand if you’d rather stay home.”

“Yeah,” Tooru mumbles. “I’ll just stay home.”

“Okay,” Suga says, ruffling Tooru’s hair once again. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Thanks, Kou-chan,” Tooru says, burying his face into his pillow again. He hears his door close with a soft click. Moments later, he hears Suga’s soft voice travelling through the hallways. There’s a jingle of keys, the sound of the fridge opening and closing. Suga’s voice raises as if he’s arguing with someone. Maybe he’s on the phone. Tooru closes his eyes as he hears the jingle of keys and the sound of a door closing. There’s a moment of sweet, soft silence. Tooru sighs. Then his door opens. 

“Kou-chan,” Tooru whines, turning his face so it’s no longer buried in the fabric. “I’m really okay. You can go now.”

“I don’t think you’re okay,” Kuroo says. 

Tooru sits up so fast that his head hurts. Letting out an annoyed huff, he cradles his head in his hands momentarily before shooting Kuroo a glare. Kuroo offers Tooru a cup of coffee, which he declines. “What are you doing here?”

Kuroo flinches at the venom in Tooru’s voice. “I came to apologize.”

“Apology not accepted,” Tooru growls. “Look Kuroo, I appreciate the sentiment, but I’d rather be alone. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“You’re not excused,” Kuroo says. 

“ _ Excuse me _ ?” Tooru hisses. “Get out of my house.”

Kuroo narrows his eyes. He pulls his phone out of his pocket. He taps something out, glancing up at Tooru every now and then. After a moment’s silence, he turns his phone around, showing Tooru the screen. It takes a moment for Tooru’s eyes to adjust to the harsh light, but when he finally makes the words out, he lets out a scoff. 

  
  


**To: Zumes-chan ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ  
** please say something back he’s not responding im kinda worried

**From: Zumes-chan ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ  
** Im driving ill say something later

**To: Zumes-chan ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ  
** tsk tsk so irresponsible  
wait  
no, not that  
tooru probably doesn’t mean love love  
just like  
love 

**From: Zumes-chan ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ  
** yeah yeah i got that dw  
if he’s there tell him not to worry about it  
i get what he means

**To: Zumes-chan ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ  
** you do?  
ok lol whatever you say zumes

**From: Zumes-chan ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ  
** good  
if you’re still at the store get some agedashi tofu  
im craving  
also tell shittykawa he’d better be at the rehearsal  
i have something to show him

**To: Zumes-chan ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ  
** wow  
scandalous!

**From: Zumes-chan ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ  
** shut up neko fucker

  
  


“Is that where Daichi got the name ‘Neko Fucker’?” Tooru snorts, handing Kuroo back his phone. Kuroo sputters.

“Really?”

“What?” Tooru frowns.

“I show you a heartfelt conversation that should earn back your trust, and all you get from that is  _ neko fucker _ ?” Kuroo crosses his arms. “I’m hurt.”   


Tooru wrinkles his nose. “I thought you came to apologize.”

“I did,” Kuroo says, and he pulls something from his pocket. He presses a milk bread into Tooru’s palm, smiling as he does so. “Here’s my apology.”

“A milk bread?” Tooru laughs. “That’s not an apology. You have to do better Tetsu-chan.”

At the nickname, Kuroo’s face brightens. He gets down on his knees. 

“Tetsu-chan, get up!” Tooru screams, struggling to get up. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Do what?” Kuroo’s face is blank.

“What else are you going to do?” Tooru drags on Kuroo’s wrists, trying to get him to stand up. “Stop begging!”

“Begging?” Kuroo looks confused for a second before he laughs. “Oh, that’s what you thought I was doing. I’m not begging. I’m too good to beg.”

“What are you doing, then?” Tooru hisses. 

“I was going to give you a blowjob.”

Tooru pushes him away. “Get the fuck away from me you freak.”

“Gladly,” Kuroo smirks, standing up. “I really am sorry by the way.”

Tooru smiles. “I know.”

“Also with Tsukki,” Kuroo rubs the back of his head nervously. “I realize that I never talked to you about it. We kinda broke up.”

“Did you,” Tooru muses. “I kind of figured.”

Kuroo hums as he opens the door. “Yeah? How?”

“He stopped asking about you.” Tooru sighs.

Kuroo stiffens. “Oh.”

Noticing Kuroo’s discomfort, Tooru places the milk bread on the counter and quickly changes the subject. “What time is the rehearsal done at?”

Kuroo blinks once before he pulls out his phone and checks the time. “In about three hours, why?”

“Let’s go.” Tooru gestures to the door with his head. “I don’t want to miss it.”

“You’re coming?”

“Yeah,” Tooru pulls on his jacket. “You’ve come to a lot of my band’s rehearsals. It’s time I come to one of yours, and well I kind of want to see what your rehearsals look like.”

Kuroo’s gaze turns sly. “Are you sure it’s not because of Zumes?”

Tooru blushes but faces the door, away from Kuroo’s calculating stare. “No.”

“Whatever you say, Tooru-chan.” Kuroo laughs.

“Don’t call me that!”

“Now you know how it feels.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


When Tooru enters Aces’ rehearsal room, he’s surprised to see that it looks exactly like the rehearsal rooms on campus. This one, according to Kuroo, is one of three rehearsal rooms that the band has off-campus. It’s located in the basement of Bokuto’s off-campus house. The equipment is new: the speakers are new, the microphones, even the amps are new. Tooru watches as the band warms up. As he takes off his sweater, he watches as Kuroo takes his spot next to Daichi. He slings his guitar strap across his shoulder and grins at Tooru.

Everyone is there, and Tooru’s surprised to see Akaashi sitting on one of the stools, his scores in his hand as he writes a song. Suga sits by the soundboard next to Shimizu and the two offer him a smile and a wave. Everyone is here, everyone except--

“Where’s Zumes?” Kuroo asks, running a hand through his hair. Bokuto saunters over to Akaashi, peering over his shoulder at the notes written on the page. Tooru watches as he tilts his head ever so slightly, whispering something into Akaashi’s ear. 

“I don’t know,” Bokuto replies. 

“Aw come on,” Terushima moans, shuffling restlessly from foot to foot. His guitar is an odd shade of yellow, much like his hair. From the back of Tooru’s mind, the name  _ Stratocaster  _ appears a name that Tsukki had mentioned to Tooru once when they were buying a guitar for Kuroo’s birthday. “Tetsu and I even came back early from our trip!”

Kuroo glances at Terushima, a sly smirk on his face. Tooru nearly gasps. He knows that look. It’s a look that he had seen between Tsukki and Kuroo in the early stages of their relationship. One that became unrequited when Tsukki decided to move away when he slowly distanced himself from Kuroo. One that Tooru saw behind Tsukki’s mask as he said goodbye that day at the airport.

“Take care of Kuroo-san for me.” Tsukki had muttered, indifferent as he walked towards security. Tooru knew better. He saw the hurt in his friend’s eyes, the way he flinched when he said Kuroo’s name. 

“I will,” Tooru had replied, giving Tsukki a hug.

The look in Kuroo’s eyes makes it all worthwhile.

Kuroo seems to feel Tooru’s stare. He turns his head slightly, onyx eyes catching Tooru’s and his mouth quirks up. He shrugs. 

There’s some banging on the door behind Tooru and he turns around just as the door opens, and Iwaizumi struts in. Today he’s wearing a pair of dark grey sweatpants and a crumpled t-shirt. At the sight of Tooru, his eyes widen slightly, and he pulls the hem of his shirt slightly. Tooru’s eyes catch the movement, the way that the fabric covers over a bruise at the base of Iwaizumi’s neck. Tooru’s stomach churns.

“Oh,” Iwaizumi grumbles. “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” Tooru squeaks, his voice dry. He looks down, helplessly glancing at his jeans and shoes. Of course. “I was just about to leave, anyways. I came to drop Tetsu-chan off.”

Iwaizumi raises a brow at the nickname but says nothing of it. “No,” he grumbles. “Stay. I need to show you something.”

“I can really just come back later.” Tooru croaks. 

“Tooru,” Kuroo says, and Tooru turns to face him. Kuroo’s eyes aren’t looking at him. They’re looking blankly at Iwaizumi’s collar. “I left my water bottle in my car. Could you grab it for me?”

Tooru nods and pushes past Iwaizumi. Pushes past the musky smell sweat, and the painful undertone of women’s perfume. Shakily, he closes the door and runs out to Kuroo’s car, crying as he does so.

“Damn,” he whispers, breath catching in his throat. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

“Hey, are you okay?” Tooru doesn’t move from his spot on the hood of Kuroo’s car. In his hand, he grips Kuroo’s water bottle, the plastic biting painfully into his hand. It’s cold outside, he can feel the chill in his bones. He regrets leaving his jacket in the room. He regrets coming. He regrets meeting Iwaizumi.

“I’m okay,” Tooru replies. His voice betrays his words. It’s nearly gone, coming out in sporadic tones of voice and scratchy whispers. He turns his head to meet Suga’s worried stare. “Really, Kou-chan. I’m okay.”

Suga sighs and hops onto the hood beside Tooru. The metal dents under their weight. “You’re not okay, Oikawa.”

Tooru shakes his head. “I’m really not.”

“Would it help if I left?”

“No, not really.” Tooru sniffles. “I’m--I’m glad you’re here.”

“The rest of them are eating,” Suga suggests, arm looping around Tooru’s shoulders. He leans into the warmth. “You can come inside. It’s cold out here.”

“I’d rather not.” Tooru sighs. “I’d rather have Tetsu-chan’s keys and drive away from here.”

Suga nods. The two of them stay like that for a moment, the wind coming to break the silence every now and then. Tooru lets out a sigh, and his breath comes out as fog. There’s a click behind them, and Suga turns his head. 

“Sugawara,” Iwaizumi says. “Sawamura’s looking for you inside.”

Suga hums. “Tell him I’ll be there in a moment.”

“It’s got something to do with his allergy.”

Suga hisses under his breath. “Fucking Kuroo.” To Iwaizumi he says. “I’ll be there right away.” He gives Tooru one last squeeze before he hops off the hood. Tooru listens to his footsteps as they walk away. He lets out a shuddering sigh and jumps when something warm is draped over his shoulders. 

“What the hell are you doing out here, dumbass.” Iwaizumi sighs. Tooru tilts his head and watches as Iwaizumi leans against the car, back facing Tooru. “It’s freezing.”

It’s dead silent for a moment. “I needed some time alone.” Tooru croaks.

“Time alone?” Iwaizumi taps a rhythm against the hood with his fingertips. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“Ahh,” Tooru quips bitterly. “You care about me now, is that it?”

“Dumbass.” Iwaizumi mutters, “I’ve always cared about you.”

The wind whips Tooru’s skin. He pulls the sweater around him tightly, stopping only when he realizes it’s Iwaizumi’s. The two of them are quiet for a long, long time.

“I’ve cared about you for a while now.” Iwaizumi continues. His voice is gruff. “Ever since--”

“You don’t need to explain yourself, Iwa-chan.” Tooru sighs. He stares numbly at his shoes.

There’s another huff from Iwaizumi before the man moves. He stands in front of Tooru, hands on either side of his legs, forcing him to look at him. Tooru holds in a breath. Iwaizumi looks angry. Extremely angry.

There’s a beat of silence. “You look ugly when you cry.”

Tooru scoffs. “Jeez, thanks, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi raises a brow. “Shittykawa,” he slowly leans closer to Tooru, and in turn, Tooru leans back ever so slightly. “Come inside.”

“No.” Tooru crosses his arms. 

“Please.”

“No.”

“It’s cold out here.”

“I’m fine out here.”

“No, you’re not,” Iwaizumi sighs. “I wanted to show you something.” From this angle, Tooru can see the hickey. Quickly, he averts his eyes. 

“Show me tomorrow.”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi mutters. His frown deepens. “Please.”

Tooru hesitates, his fingers itching to soothe out the frown. 

Iwaizumi catches the hesitation and his mouth quirks up slightly. “Kuroo didn’t choose the food.”

Tooru lets out a huff before he slides his hands into the sleeves of Iwaizumi’s jacket. Belatedly, he notices that Iwaizumi is shivering and he almost gives up the jacket. He watches as Iwaizumi moves back slightly so Tooru can slide off of the hood. When his feet touch the ground, Iwaizumi’s arm cage around him and tug him closer.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru stutters.

“You’re freezing.” Iwaizumi grunts.

“I thought we already established that.” Tooru grumbles, untangling himself from Iwaizumi’s embrace.

Iwaizumi regards him with his calculating glare. His scowl lessens. “Come on, Shittykawa, let’s go inside.”

“Yeah, okay Iwa-chan.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Come on.” Iwaizumi urges, nudging Tooru to the basement. Tooru finishes the last of his takoyaki and follows Iwaizumi. When they enter the room, Iwaizumi flicks on the lights and takes out Kuroo’s guitar, balancing it on his thigh. 

Tooru stares. “Tetsu-chan will get mad.”

Iwaizumi tilts his head at the nickname. “You call him that,” he strums a chord. “Why?”

Tooru looks at the strings on the guitar. He grins slowly, smile turning sly. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Iwaizumi stops playing. He purses his lips. 

“Maybe I do,” he mutters. He begins to play Tooru’s melody on the guitar. 

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru sighs, taking a seat next to Iwaizumi. “What did you want to show me?”

“This,” Iwaizumi says as he stands up and struts to the soundboard. He presses a couple of buttons, and soon enough Tooru’s song fills the room. At Tooru’s bewildered stare, Iwaizumi shrugs. “I couldn’t get the song out of my head.”

“Is this mine?” Tooru whispers over the soft melody. It’s the same one that he and Iwaizumi had improvised. It sounds exactly the same albeit the added percussion. “How--?”

“I told you,” Iwaizumi says. “I couldn’t get it out of my head. I wrote some percussion parts for it if you want them.”

“But  _ why _ ?” Tooru stands up and walks towards Iwaizumi.

“You said you were having trouble writing the song. I figured if you had a bit more parts, you’d find inspiration.”

He’s right. As Tooru listens to the melody, he can hear spots where he can hear a trumpet solo, and a spot where the violins can create a suspension. There’s a spot where in the background he can hear flute trills, and a sixteenth note run from his clarinets. Tooru can hear his cellos taking over the melody, almost like a--

“Fugue.” Tooru mutters.

“Sorry?” 

“What if I made a fugue with the melody?” Tooru asks.

“A fugue?” Iwaizumi frowns. “Like the Bach one?”

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru giggles. In a poor imitation of Iwaizumi’s voice, he repeats: “Like the Bach one?”

“Shut up, Trashkawa!” Iwaizumi growls.

Tooru gasps. “Another nickname? Mean, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi scowls and takes a USB stick out of his pocket and presses it into Tooru’s hand. “That’s the song. If you need it for future reference.”

Tooru pretends his hand isn’t tingling. “Say, Iwa-chan, do you want to write it with me?”

“What?” Iwaizumi frowns. 

“Since you already wrote the percussion part, why not write the rest of the song with me?” Tooru grins. “Also I don’t want to have to write an entire song by myself…”

Iwaizumi laughs. “Yeah, sure.” 

Tooru listens as the melody tapers out. “Childhood friends.”

Iwaizumi looks up, one eyebrow raised. “What?”

“You asked earlier why I called Kuroo Tetsu-chan.” Tooru replies, turning to stare at the rest of the room. Empty, it looks like the stage on the quad. When the band practices, it looks like a basement. “We’re childhood friends. I used to live across him when we were kids. When I was seven we moved to Tokyo from Miyagi, and he and this other kid on our block named Kenma-chan used to spend hours in the park playing volleyball.” He turns his head to grin at Iwaizumi. “I’ve called him that since we were kids. The name just stuck, I guess.”

“Oh,” Iwaizumi scratches his nose. “Nice to know.”

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru pouts. “You’re the one that asked!”

Iwaizumi’s cheeks redden. “I know that, idiot! Shut up!”

“Mean, Iwa-chan! Mean!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**To: neko fucker  
** so like does iwa-chan have a girlfriend  
boyfriend?  
significant other?

**From: neko fucker  
** IWA-CHAN  
WHO THE FUCK IS  
oh  
zumes  
um not that i know of?  
also why?

**To: neko fucker  
** bitch you know why

**From: neko fucker  
** Yeah but why now  
Why not, i dont know, last week?

**To: neko fucker  
** I had priorities greater than knowing who iwa-chan is dating  
also yay!

**From: neko fucker  
** you keep telling yourself that honey  
also is this about the hickey?

**To: neko fucker  
** Bye

**From: neko fucker  
** Ok bye dick  
But like trust me when i say he doesn’t usually come to practices with hickies  
maybe he got lucky last night  
jk  
just dont think too much on it  
also kenmas coming to visit tomorrow   
you should come

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Tooru tries not to scream as he opens his door only to find Kuroo on his couch. 

“I’m leaving,” he says automatically, picking up his jacket and turning around. 

“Wait no,” Kuroo says, scrambling up. There’s a soft sigh, softer than any sound Kuroo could ever make, and Tooru turns around to find Kenma staring at him. 

“Kenma-chan!” he squeals, dropping his jacket in favour of tackling the smaller boy on the couch. Kenma inches away from the touch, much like a cat in Tooru’s hands, and squirms until Tooru lets him go. He blinks once, slowly before he returns his attention to the DS in his hands. 

“Tooru,” he greets, soft voice quiet over the dull background noise of the television. Tooru moves over so he’s seated next to Kenma, swatting Kuroo’s legs away in the process. Over Kenma’s shoulder, he can see the setting of Pokemon Sun and Tooru whistles in appreciation. 

“I still haven’t got that yet,” he comments. Kuroo nods as he wraps an arm around Kenma. Tooru watches as the smaller man curls into the warmth of Kuroo’s body. He hums and Kuroo tightens his grip. “How’s Kyoto?”

“Stuffy,” Kenma answers, wrinkling his nose.

“Stuffier than Tokyo?” Kuroo mumbles. Kenma nods. 

“There’s this boy in my accounting class,” he grumbles as he comes across a Weedle. “His name is Shouyou. He’s loud, and kind of reminds me of Koutarou.”

“Koutarou?” Tooru questions.

“Bokuto,” Kuroo clarifies.

“Oh,” Tooru nods. “Wait, Kenma-chan? How do you know Bokuto?”

“Third year, after you quit volleyball,” Kuroo mumbles around a mouthful of chips. “We met him at the training camp.”   


Tooru gapes. “That’s so unfair!”

Kuroo smirks. “Serves you right for quitting volleyball.”

“Excuse you,” Tooru mumbles, lower lip sticking out petulantly. “It wasn’t my fault.”

Kuroo freezes, eyes widen. “Holy shit, Tooru. I didn’t mean to--”

“I know,” Tooru says quietly. Kenma’s eyes snap up from his DS. Tooru offers him what he hopes is a reassuring grin. “It’s fine.”

“It’s really not,” Kenma says. “Apologize, Tetsurou.”

“I’m truly sorry,” Kuroo says.

Tooru shrugs. “Apology accepted. Wait,” he frowns, sitting up. “Wasn’t I supposed to meet you at the quad? We were supposed to go downtown for some ramen.”

“Kenma didn’t want to,” Kuroo explains. 

“It’s too stuffy,” Kenma sighs.

“I see,” Tooru hums. “Did you want me to cook ramen or--?”

“Yes.” 

“Yes please,” Kuroo and Kenma say at the same time. Eyes snapping to Tooru. Tooru sighs. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Thanks, Tooru-chan,” Kuroo singsongs and it takes every good bone in Tooru’s body not to punch him.

It takes Tooru all of fifteen minutes to get the instant ramen out of the cupboard and cook it, and by the time the noodles are set, Kenma’s saved his game and the stupid reality TV show that Kuroo’s trying to watch is over. The door opens, and Suga and Daichi walk in, both grinning when they catch sight of Kenma.

“Kenma-kun!” Suga smiles, as he leans over the smaller man. Kenma looks up with a small smile. 

“Hello Sugawara-san, Sawamura-san.” Kenma nods. 

“Kozume-kun.” Daichi nods. When he meets Kuroo’s eyes, he scowls. “Neko fucker.”

“Thunder thighs.” Kuroo retorts. 

“Boys, be nice.” Suga chides. He waves to the group as he and Daichi head to Suga’s room. Tooru rolls his eyes and motions for Kuroo and Kenma to join him. As they huddle around the table, bowls of ramen in front of them, Kuroo lets out a tiny chortle.

“What, Kuro?” Kenma asks, slightly annoyed as he picks up his chopsticks. 

“Nothing,” Kuroo says, body shaking with silent laughter. At Kenma and Tooru’s unimpressed glares, he shakes his head. “It’s nothing. I remembered the last time Tooru made ramen.”

Kenma manages a small smile. “When he over-boiled the water and it overflowed?”

Tooru blushes. “Guys.”

“Oh and he forgot to put in the noodles until after he burnt everything to a crisp?” Kuroo smirks. 

“And he mistook the sugar for the salt?” Kenma begins to giggle. 

There’s a click as Suga enters the kitchen. His sweater is gone, replaced by a thin, white t-shirt. He walks over to the pantry, rummaging along the top shelf. “Are we reminiscing about that one time Oikawa cooked ramen?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo grins. “Care to join us Suga?”

Suga frowns, hand sliding across the shelf before his face lights up. Bringing his hand down, Tooru is horrified to see a box of condoms nestled in the palm of his hand. “No,” he grins, shaking the box. “I have better things to do.”

Kuroo whistles. “Nice going, Suga!”

“Suga-chan, that’s disgusting!” Tooru squeals as Suga skips to his room.

“You’ll understand when you get a boyfriend!” Suga calls, and the door closes with a final thud. 

“Gross,” Kenma mutters as he takes a bite of the ramen. A moment passes and he begins to cough, spitting the noodles back into the bowl. He sends Tooru a deathly glare. 

“Oh my god,” Kuroo gasps, shoving his chopsticks into his bowl. “Did you manage to fuck up  _ instant ramen _ ?”

“What?” Tooru gasps, reaching for his chopsticks. “I did not!”

Kuroo takes a bite and scrunches his face at the flavour. “Wow,” he coughs. “That really is...something.” 

“It’s not that bad!” Tooru protests.

“You haven’t even tasted it,” Kuroo points out.

“That’s besides the point!” 

“It’s…” Kenma purses his lips, searching for the proper word.

“Disgusting, appalling, unappealing, disastrous, scary,” Kuroo supplies, counting the words off with his fingers.

“Salty.” 

“Like you,” Tooru sneers at Kuroo.

“Guilty,” Kuroo shrugs, putting down his chopsticks. He eyes Tooru’s bowl. “Why don’t you take a bite?”

“Fine,” Tooru spits, taking a bite. As soon as the noodles hit his mouth, he wants to scream. The taste is absolutely horrendous. He spits out the noodles and the soup, gagging at the bitter aftertaste. 

“So how was it?” Kuroo smirks.

“That was--”

“Disgusting? Appalling? Unappealing? Disastrous? Scary?” Kuroo grins. “ _ Mortifying _ ?”

“An experience.” Kenma mutters.

“Shut the fuck up.” Tooru scowls. He sighs, putting his chopsticks down on the table. “Kenma, what kind of pizza do you want?”

“Cheese,” Kenma hums. “Or maybe pepperoni.”

“Get that meat one,” Kuroo interjects.

Tooru scowls at him as he takes out his phone. “Nobody asked you,  _ neko fucker _ .”

“Hey,” Kuroo laughs. “That’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair, honey.” Tooru grimaces as he dials the pizza place. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


> **Kuroo Tetsurou (@kurootitties)** tweeted
> 
> smh @oiktooru trying to kill me all the fucking time
> 
>  
> 
> **Sugawara Koushi (@sugakou)** tweeted
> 
> holy fuck.. is this a repeat of the ramen incident @oiktooru @kurootitties
> 
>  
> 
> **Kuroo Tetsurou (@kurootitties)** tweeted 
> 
> @sugakou lol this is a new level on itself
> 
>  
> 
> **Kuroo Tetsurou (@kurootitties)** tweeted
> 
> @kurootitties @sugakou it’s disgusting appalling unappealing disastrous scary
> 
>  
> 
> **Oikawa Tooru (@oiktooru)** tweeted
> 
> Leave mE ALONE

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“So,” Kuroo drawls as Tooru’s walking to his creative writing class. He’d had a brutal composition class beforehand and was feeling the drag of the morning. Whining, he pulled the phone away from his ear, checking to see if Kuroo had called him. He didn’t. The screen reads  _ Daichi’s Gorg Thighs <3 _ .

“You’re not Daichi,” Tooru says slowly, and Kuroo scoffs. 

“Wake up, bitch-ass,” Kuroo sighs. “I have an important question.”

“Can’t it wait?” 

“No,” Kuroo says. “It can’t.” There’s some shuffling on the other end, and Tooru jerks the phone away from his ear. A couple of moments later, the static ends. 

“Yo,” Iwaizumi says. 

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru growls. “What do you want?”

“Woah, someone’s grumpy,” Iwaizumi says, and Tooru sighs.

“I’m sorry, I’m just overall tired.” Tooru sighs as he crosses the quad. It’s not as cold today, so Tooru switched his sweater for a thinner cardigan. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you were free today, and if you could come over to mine.”

“Oh?” Tooru grins and a playful whine plays in his voice. “What for Iwa-chan? Did you want something from me? I can give you  _ anything _ you want.”

Iwaizumi’s quiet for a moment. “ _ Shittykawa _ ,” he hisses.

“I’m just teasing,” Tooru giggles as he opens the door. “I’m free tomorrow after rehearsal, why?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to write the song.”

“Which song?”

“The one for your band.”

Tooru remembers crescendos and decrescendos, the beginning of a fugue in his head. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay then, after rehearsal I’ll pick you up.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah.” The static begins again on the other side and Tooru enters his classroom, sitting down in his spot. Moments later, Kuroo’s voice is back. 

“I can hear you blushing.”

“Shut up.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“You’ve been complaining less these days,” Suga says the next morning as he pulls down the cereal from the top shelf. Tooru stares at the box in his hand. “What?”

“Please explain to me,” he says slowly, watching as Suga pours the cereal into the bowl. Then the milk. He brings the spoon up to his mouth. Tooru pauses as he listens to the audible crunch of the cereal. 

“Explain what?” Suga says through a mouthful of cereal. 

Tooru blinks. “Explain to me why you had a box of condoms in the cupboard.”

Suga grins and holds up a finger. “Wait and see,” he laughs as he walks up to the cupboard. This time it takes all of two seconds for him to pull out a box. Tooru’s jaw drops.

“Kou-chan,” he whines. “That is unsanitary, and a bit insensitive,” he adds as he watches Suga put the box back. Scandalized, he whispers. “How many boxes are up there?”

“Now, now, if I gave that away there’d be no secrets in this house,” Suga singsongs.

“That’s how it’s supposed to be!” Tooru whines.

“Don’t be such a prude,” Suga says as he takes another bite of his cereal. “I know how you were back in our first year:  _ insatiable _ .”

Tooru hopes the heat he feels on his face isn’t visible. “We don’t talk about first year.”

“So many girls and boys,” Suga laments. “You thought you were sneaky but I always caught them before they left.” He winks. Tooru gapes. His first year of college had been one full of experimentation and, in turn, one of many nights spent in the company of others. He’d always make sure to kick the other person out before Suga was awake but apparently he’d been wrong. 

“Wait,” Tooru grumbles as he watches Suga happily eat his cereal, “You were up at five in the morning?”

“I had an early literature class in first year,” Suga explains, winking, and Tooru remembers that yes, Suga did have an early literature class, and no, he was not smart in shooing the others out at five in the morning.

“Kou-chan,” Tooru says slowly, and Suga nods. 

“Yeah?”

“Tell me the truth: were they attractive?”

Suga splutters. “The people you brought home in first year?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess,” Suga contemplates as he finishes the last of his cereal and throws his bowl into the sink. “Actually, yeah most of them were. They aren’t Daichi but if I weren’t dating him at the time, I would’ve snatched some of them from you.”

“Kou-chan,” Tooru whines. “ _ You’re _ insatiable.”

“ _ I’m _ insatiable?” Suga laughs as he heads to his room. “If I remember correctly one of the people you brought home had been Terushima. You have no right to call  _ me _ insatiable.”

“Who the fuck is Teru--?” A pierced lip. Brown hair instead of blonde. A smirk as lips ran up the inside of his thigh. Tooru sputters.

“Kou-chan, what the fuck?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**[Messages] @oiktooru, @terishimaces**

 

**terushimaces:** lolol did suga-san tell ya?

**oiktooru:** terushima what the fuck

**terushimaces:** last time u saw me u called me yuuji ;)

**oiktooru:** no dumbass  
**oiktooru** : last time i saw u i didn’t say ur name

**terushimaces:** haha true  
**terushimaces:** yknow i wouldnt mind reliving first year

**oiktooru:** haha would you~

**terushimaces:** hell yeah that was a hell of a night  
**terushimaces:** also if i hadnt fucked you i wouldntve met suga-san  
**terushimaces:** so i owe you that at least

**oiktooru:** how about a favour then?

**terushimaces:** yeah whaddaya have in mind?

**oiktooru:** get iwa-chan to follow me

**terushimaces:** iwa-chan?  
**terushimaces:** OH IWAIZUMI-SAN  
**terushimaces:** yeah kuroo told me about him

**oiktooru:** yeah  
**oiktooru:** and how’s kuroo doing for you

**terushimaces:** not too shabby he sucked me off last night  
**terushimaces:** i came four times ;)

**oiktooru:** jesus christ  
**oiktooru:** if it was four times that was not just a bj  
**oiktooru:** ALSO WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS I THOUGHT YOU WERE KEEPING MUM

**terushimaces:** you asked   
**terushimaces:** also kuroos keeping mum not me

**oiktooru:** how is kuroo really  
**oiktooru:** like how do you feel about him

**terushimaces:** idk man its kinda a passing thing  
**terushimaces:** but like idk if im ready for a long-term relationship rn  
**terushimaces:** especially since i just started with the band this year

**oiktooru:** ahh ok

**terushimaces:** wbu and iwaizumi-san?

**oiktooru:** if you dont shut your mouth right now ill tell the enitre band how you came the moment you pushed yourself inside me

**terushimaces:** not my proudest moment

**oiktooru:** yuuji~

**terishimaces:** is that an offer?  
**terushimaces:** judging by kuroos face thats a no  
**terushimaces:** fine lol ill stop

**oiktooru:** good  
**oiktooru:** also take care of kuroo hes been through a lot

**terushimaces:** take care of kuroo?  
**terushimaces:** okay..?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“I need more of a crescendo here, and could you possibly make this motif a bit more...stylistic?”

Akaashi sends Tooru a deadpan glare. “ _ Stylistic _ .”

“Kei-chan,” Tooru whines, stepping away from the violinist. “You know what I mean.” Akaashi nods, picking up his violin and his bow. Rehearsal has yet to begin, and the only people in the room are Akaashi, Tooru and a handful of his woodwind instruments. When Akaashi begins to play his solo, the entire room goes silent. 

It’s exactly as Tooru imagined it: the tone is soft and mellow, bringing out the sadness that is evoked with the song. As Akaashi plays the motif, he plays it with a gradual crescendo and a bit of rubato and Tooru claps his hands. 

“Exactly like that, Kei-chan.” Akaashi nods. “Good job.” All around the room, applause begins and Akaashi ducks his head in embarrassment. 

“Hey, hey, hey,  _ A _ kaashi!” Bokuto yells as he enters the room. The violinist turns red. “Great job!”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi nods, voice ever the tone of perfection. His eyes slide over to Iwaizumi. “Iwaizumi-san.”

Bokuto occupies the seat next to Akaashi’s, slinging one arm around the smaller man. Akaashi doesn’t flinch away; rather, he seems to lean into the touch. Tooru raises an eyebrow. “Say, do you want to grab something to eat later?”

“After rehearsal?” Akaashi clarifies as he plays a pizzicato part in their piece.

“Yeah,” Bokuto grins, eyes lighting up.

“Okay,” Akaashi says, looking up at Bokuto. The taller man’s eyes soften.

“Really?” Bokuto yells, and Akaashi quiets him with a pat on the thigh. “Where do you want to go?”

“It doesn’t really matter to me,” Akaashi says softly. “You can pick, Bokuto-san.”

As the two discuss their plans for the afternoon, Iwaizumi walks over to Tooru, his facial expression unreadable. Tooru adjusts his glasses and frowns. 

“What, Iwa-chan?”   


“Terushima asked me something really weird today,” Iwaizumi grumbles, and Tooru feels his heart momentarily stop. “And it involved you.”

“Why so grumpy, Iwa-chan? If it’s about me, shouldn’t you be happy?” At Iwaizumi’s unimpressed stare, he drops his facade. “What did he say?”

“He asked me to follow you,” Iwaizumi raises a brow. “Didn’t specify where, he just said to follow you. Care to clarify, Trashkawa?”

“That’s kind of unfair,” Tooru moans. 

“What is?”

“That you have two nicknames for me and I only have one for you,” he sighs. “What about I make up another one for you?”

“ _ Shittykawa _ ,” Iwaizumi growls and Tooru sighs.

“All right, Iwa-chan.” He walks up to his podium, bottom lip sticking out petulantly. “Follow me on Twitter.”

“No.”

“Iwa-chan!”

“No, Shittykawa.”

“Please.”

“No way in hell.”

“But why,” Tooru whines, crossing his arms. “I’m a good person!”

“I don’t want your trash personality filling up my feed,” Iwaizumi grumbles. 

“My personality is not trash!” Tooru complains. 

“It is, Trashkawa,” Iwaizumi says. “I’ll only follow you if you do something that makes me  _ want _ to follow you.” Tooru pouts before he takes out his baton from its case.

“Whatever,” he grumbles. 

“You’re still coming over today?” Iwaizumi says, eyes roaming over the scores on Tooru’s stand. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Tooru replies.

“Nothing, it’s just that there’s an Aces rehearsal today and I’m going to head over there after we write,” Iwaizumi regards him with curious eyes. “You up for it?”

“Sure,” Tooru nods. “It’ll be fun.”

“As long as you don’t go running off and crying like last time,” Iwaizumi snickers as he walks to the percussion section.

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru whines. “You’re so mean!”

Tooru watches as Iwaizumi sets up the instruments. Moments later, the rest of the players enter, and the room is filled with dull noise. He lets them warm up for five minutes before he taps his baton on his stand, quieting the room effectively.

“All right,” Tooru grins, holding up the scores for the others to see. “Let’s run it, top to bottom.”

Like everything in music, that doesn’t happen. He finds too many mistakes in their first and second songs and spends time correcting them, chiding his flutes as they fail to perform their runs. His violin section is short five people, and from the looks Akaashi is giving him, the remaining four aren’t doing their part. As Tooru rushes to fix everything, he remembers that there’s still one song they have yet to learn and he sighs before he sits down. 

“You know what I’m going to say, right?” Tooru sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

“Practice,” they chorus and Tooru nods. He picks up his baton. “Let’s move on. Bach.”

As they play through their pieces, it begins to sound less mechanical and more musical, and by their seventh piece in their set, the band is beginning to sound more like their full capacity. When they finish their set, Tooru looks at the last measures of the last piece and nods. 

“You did well,” he says, and he feels a collective sigh around the room. “However, the enthusiasm and the energy appeared in the middle of  _ Jupiter _ . We need that enthusiasm at the very beginning, the moment you play your very first note. If you guys can’t do that, we won’t be a successful group.” The players nod.

“All right, pack up,” Tooru smiles. “I’ll see you in two days.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Are you ready?” Iwaizumi asks. Tooru looks up from his score. The room is well empty, the only occupants being them and Akaashi and Bokuto. Tooru nods as he closes the score and places it into his folder.

“Yeah, just give me a second,” Tooru sighs as he walks over to place his folder into the conductor’s file. He feels Iwaizumi’s eyes on him. When he stands up, he’s surprised to find Bokuto and Akaashi gone. Iwaizumi must see the surprise on his face because he nods to the door.

“They left.”

“Of course they did,” Tooru grumbles. He gestures for Iwaizumi to follow him out the door. “It’s nice, though, the two of us alone, together.”

Iwaizumi kicks the back of his knee.

“Mean!” Tooru protests as he closes the door, locking it. “Where to, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi gestures to the parking lot doors with his chin. Tooru grins. 

“Fancy, Iwa-chan,” he sing-songs. “You drive a car?”

“No,” Iwaizumi grumbles as he walks out to the door. “Well I do, but I don’t have access to it today.”

“So are we going to walk to your apartment?” Tooru questions, already feeling the ache in his knee and the soreness in his thighs. “If that’s the case then no thank you.”

“We aren’t going to walk to my house, idiot,” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. He gestures to the parking lot, and Tooru sees Bokuto rummaging through the trunk of a white Sedan. When he sees Tooru and Iwaizumi, he waves them over.

“How are we going to get there,” Tooru whines, almost stomping to Bokuto. 

“Will you stop acting like a child?” Iwaizumi hisses, jabbing Tooru in the side with his elbow.

“Ow,” Tooru complains. Narrowing his eyes, he waits until Iwaizumi’s a couple of paces in front of him before he kicks him on the back of his leg. “Mean, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi turns around, gaze turning murderous. He stares at Tooru leg before he grabs Tooru’s arm and pulls him into a headlock. Tooru squawks indignantly. 

“Iwa-chan, stop!” 

“No,” Iwaizumi grunts before he begins ruffling Oikawa’s hair aggressively. 

“Iwa-chan, my  _ hair _ !” Tooru gasps, wriggling in an attempt to escape. His glasses fall off. “Iwa-chan, stop!”

“Shut up, Shittykawa!” Iwaizumi replies, but he’s laughing, and, in turn, Tooru’s whines dissolve into giggles. “That’s what you get!”

“I didn’t start it,” Tooru protests. “Ack, Iwa-chan watch my glasses,  _ my glasses _ \--” Iwaizumi, still with one arm around Tooru’s head picks up the glasses and stuffs them into his pockets. The two struggle for a little while longer before Akaashi’s voice breaks into their banter.

“If you two are done acting like children, Bokuto-san has the helmets.”

_ Wait. Helmets? _ Tooru looks up to see Bokuto holding two motorcycle helmets. Tooru, to the best of his ability, tries to look up at Iwaizumi. 

“Motorcycle helmets?” 

Iwa-chan smirks. “Have you ever ridden a motorcycle, Oikawa?”

“No,” Tooru shakes his head, face paling. “No way in hell.” Iwaizumi releases his grip, and Tooru falls to the ground. He looks up at the helmets and turns his head to find the sleek, black motorcycle that is parked next to the Sedan. “Iwa-chan.”

“Let’s go, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi takes the helmets from Bokuto and hands one to Tooru. It’s heavier than he expects it to be and it falls to the ground with a loud thud. Iwaizumi slips his helmet on, looking way too sexy for Tooru to handle. “Come on.”

Bokuto looks between the two of them for a moment before he grins, slow and sly, gold eyes brightening. “Ahh, I see.” He waves. “Have fun you two.” He ushers Akaashi into the Sedan. The car turns on and it rolls out of the parking lot, leaving the two of them alone. 

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi repeats, voice slightly muffled by the helmet. “If you don’t get your helmet on and stand up, we won’t get anywhere.”

Tooru stares at the helmet. “What if I fall?”

“What?”

“What if I fall?” Tooru repeats, louder. At Iwaizumi’s incredulous glare, Tooru pouts. “I’ve never ridden a bike before, Iwa-chan.”

“It’s like riding a bicycle,” Iwaizumi states bluntly, walking over to the bike and starting it up. The engine sounds like death to Oikawa’s ears. “But faster.”

“I said,” Tooru says petulantly, “that I’ve never ridden a bike before.”

Iwaizumi freezes. “Holy shit, no way.” he stares at Oikawa. “You’ve never ridden a bike?”

“Don’t laugh,” Tooru pouts, covering his face. Iwaizumi’s upper body shakes. “Iwa-chan!”

“I’m sorry,” Iwaizumi chuckles. “It’s just kind of--you’ve never ridden a  _ bike _ before?”

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru says, standing up. He’s taller than Iwaizumi by a few inches and he uses that to his advantage. Unfortunately, Iwaizumi doesn’t stop laughing. 

“Never ridden a bike before…” Iwaizumi mumbles. He shakes his head, taking off his helmet and wiping a few tears away. His hair is ruffled, making him look more dangerous, more like the drummer that Tooru had expected Iwaizumi to be. “Holy fucking shit.”

Tooru pouts. “Iwa-chan. Are you--Are you  _ crying _ ?”

“I’m sorry it’s just so funny,” Iwaizumi sighs, laughs subsiding. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” Tooru mumbles, turning the helmet in his hands. He sighs. “I’m scared.”

“You don’t need to be,” Iwa-chan says, tilting his head. “All you have to do is hold on to me, and you’ll be fine.”

“But,” Tooru stutters as he walks closer to the bike. “What if I fall?”

“That’s why you need to hold on,” Iwaizumi stresses, sitting on the bike. He pats the space behind him. “If you do that, you won’t fall.”

“Okay,” Tooru mumbles, pulling his helmet on. He fumbles with the straps and Iwaizumi sighs. Twisting himself so he’s seated sideways on the bike, he grips Tooru’s thighs and pulls him towards his body. 

“Here, let me,” Iwaizumi murmurs, hands coming up under Tooru’s chin. For a moment, as Iwaizumi adjusts the straps, Tooru can’t breathe. His heart hammers in his chest, and he’s overly aware of the way he’s shaking. Under the tint of the visor, Iwaizumi looks darker. The shadows under his cheekbones look more prominent, and Iwaizumi looks like a god. Tooru remembers how he called Iwaizumi a music god, and he watches as Iwaizumi’s entire body looks golden.

Iwaizumi leans away, staring up at Tooru. One hand rests on the outside of his thigh, caressing the muscle there. Tooru’s heart stutters, and he forces it to stop. Forces himself not to hope. Forces himself to think of the hurt he had felt when he’d seen the bruise on Iwaizumi’s collarbone. 

“Do I just get on the back?” Tooru squeaks, and Iwaizumi looks up. From this angle, he looks adorably dishevelled. He nods. 

“Yeah, just hop on. Put your feet--not there--ah there.” Iwaizumi puts his helmet back on. His voice comes out muffled. “Put your arms around me.”

“What?”

“You don’t want to fall, do you?” 

“No.”

“Then hold on,” Iwaizumi says. Then he pushes off. 

For the next half hour, Tooru lives what is possibly the worst half hour of his life. It’s exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, and it takes all of his energy not to scream. However, when they head out of the parking lot and onto the freeway, Tooru feels like he can fly. The wind whips his jacket around, biting at his arms, but he could care less. The only thing he can hear is the rush of the wind and the sounds of cars passing by until Iwaizumi pushes something, and music starts to spill into Tooru’s ears.

It’s not music that Tooru would ever listen to; it’s all bass and synthetic guitars, low timbre voices and the hard, heavy clash of drums, but it definitely defines Iwaizumi. As Tooru feels the music shake the bike, he can imagine Iwaizumi riding around Tokyo alone, and if Tooru hadn’t known him, he would have mistaken him for a delinquent. The music adds to the thrill in the ride, and Tooru lets out a yell of excitement when they zip past campus limits and into Tokyo’s metropolis. They navigate through the city, zipping through traffic, and it takes them all of ten minutes to reach what Tooru knows as the higher-end of Tokyo.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru says, eyes roaming over the buildings. Iwaizumi lowers the volume of his music: enough so that it doesn’t cause a disturbance but can still be felt through the bike. “This where you  _ live _ ?” Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything. He squeezes Tooru’s arm as they reach an apartment building. Iwaizumi parks his bike in front of the building and when he takes off his helmet, sweat clings onto the ends of his hair. He turns, hands automatically undoing the straps on Tooru’s helmet. Tooru doesn’t notice his hands are still wrapped around Iwaizumi’s waist until he feels the other man panting. He quickly lets go.

“Let’s go,” Iwaizumi says, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. 

“Yeah,” Tooru says, taking his own helmet off. “Let’s go.”    
  
  
  
  
  


Iwaizumi’s apartment is well-decorated. It’s the penthouse suite, something Tooru can only dream of affording. When they enter, Tooru’s holier-than-thou attitude is dropped immediately and he spends nearly five minutes gazing in awe at the entrance. 

“Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi snaps, taking off his jacket. “Are you going to come in or what?”

“Yeah,” Tooru mumbles, shaking off his jacket and placing it on the coat rack.

“Do you want tea, water, beer…” Iwaizumi’s voice floats from the kitchen.

“Water’s fine,” Tooru grins as he walks over to the kitchen, but he falters when he spies one of the open doors, leading into what seems like a music studio. He walks over, peeking into the room and gasping when he spies a beautiful cello standing in the middle of the room. 

He walks in, immediately bathed by the soft, golden light of the studio. On one side of the room, a myriad of guitars lines the wall. The other side of the room shows the inside of a recording booth, complete with a soundboard. To his left is a desk, laptop open on it, showing the beginnings of a new song being written. Beside it is a keyboard. And in the corner, in all its glory is Iwaizumi’s kit, each of the drums looks new, but the worn out sticks say otherwise.

“You enjoying the view?” Tooru turns to find Iwaizumi standing in the doorway, two water bottles in his hands. He sets them by the laptop.  

“Where did you get the cello?” Tooru asks as Iwaizumi exits out of the score on the laptop and opens a fresh, new sheet. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi replies. “It’s Bokuto’s.”

“Bokuto’s?” Tooru runs his hand over the neck of the cello. “I didn’t know he played cello.”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “He did, back in middle school. At least, that’s what he tells us. Something tells me he knows how to play most string instruments, but doesn’t tell anyone,” he runs his hands along  the keys on the laptop, “I’ve seen him pick up a violin and play  _ Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso _ like it was nothing.”

Tooru’s seen the way Bokuto plays the string bass. He plays beautifully; wrist extending as he goes through notes with his bow, his body slightly swaying with whichever song they’re playing. Sometimes, Tooru sees him bouncing along when he plays pizzicato. Now that he looks back on it, Tooru sees how musical he actually is. 

“Makes sense,” he says. “He acts like one on the stage.”

Iwaizumi nods. He sends Tooru a pointed look. “You can play it, you know. Bokuto brought it here so you could play it. There’s no way we could’ve carried it on the bike and either way he was going to take the car.” He stands up and grabs the chair sitting in front of the soundboard and places it in behind the cello. Tooru sits and quickly tunes the strings. “What key is the song in?”

Tooru quickly transposes the song into his head, and unconsciously fingers through the song before he figures out the key. “B flat major?”

“That sounds like a question,” Iwaizumi grunts, and Tooru glances over with a sheepish smile. 

“B flat major,” he nods as he fingers through the melody. “Definitely B flat major. It modulates throughout the song.”

“We’ll figure that out later,” Iwaizumi suggests. He presses a few keys on the laptop before he gestures to Tooru. “Do you know how to transpose a song in your head?”

“A little,” Tooru nods as he tightens the bow. “Why?”

“I was just wondering how we were going to write it,” Iwaizumi says. “Since the cello has a different clef and all.”

“Look at you, Iwa-chan,” Tooru nods, testing the bow against the strings. “So smart.”

“Shut up.”

“Just calling it as I see it, Iwa-chan,” Tooru sighs before he starts playing the melody. “I kind of want to start it slower, almost sombre--maybe strings? Flute, maybe?”

Iwaizumi grabs the laptop from the desk and moves to sit in front of Oikawa on the floor, the screen facing both of them. He starts adding parts to the score, up until he has enough parts for the entire band. Tooru watches with rapt interest. “Which strings?”

“All four of the main ones for sure,” Tooru says. He pauses, mid-stroke. “Would a solo sound good?”

“For this piece?” Iwaizumi hums as his finger flutter nervously over the keyboard. “Probably,” he gestures to Tooru’s cello. “It sounds good on the cello.”

“Reserve it for either the cello or the violin then,” Tooru decides, absentmindedly playing through  _ Canon in D _ . “I know Kei-chan would be able to play this beautifully.”

Iwaizumi tilts his head. “What if there were multiple solos.”

“Multiple solos?” Tooru tilts his head. “A  _ soli _ ?”

“Not necessarily,” Iwaizumi says turning so that he faces Tooru. “A soli is when they all play the same part, right? What if we did a canon at the beginning with that melody.”

“A canon?” Tooru tilts his head. “I don’t know if it would work.” 

“I’ll put it in, and let’s see if it does,” Iwaizumi reasons, and his eyes glint. Tooru watches as he expertly maneuvers through the program, adding parts to the strings and the higher-pitched woodwinds. 

“You like writing songs, don’t you Iwa-chan?” Tooru murmurs. 

“Oh?” Iwaizumi says, turning slightly. “What makes you say that?”

“You seem like you enjoy this more than playing percussion,” Tooru says, gathering the facts in his head. “Also, you wrote an entire part, and maybe half the song. You wouldn’t do that if you didn’t like writing songs.”

“Guilty,” Iwaizumi shrugs as he goes back to the laptop. “I write most of Aces’ songs.”

Tooru stops playing. “You  _ write _ them?”

Iwaizumi nods tersely. “The music, not the lyrics. Kuroo’s good at lyrics, so he takes care of them, but I write the song, think of a concept for that song, and give those to Kuroo. He does the rest.”

“That’s amazing, Iwa-chan!”

“Not really,” he says nonchalantly, “it’s the lyrics that people connect to, not the music. People don’t usually like music because of the theory behind it. They like the meaning of the songs, the way that lyrics connect to a person’s experiences. They don’t listen to songs because of augmented chords or hemiolas. That doesn’t interest people.”

Tooru frowns. “That’s what interested me about your music.” 

Iwaizumi freezes. “What?”

“I liked the way the instruments sound together when they play the intros to your songs.” Tooru plays with the nut on his bow. “I could honestly care less about the lyrics, but what caught me was the way the instruments seemed to click together. It wasn’t a repeat of an overused chord progression or a rip-off of a classical song. All your songs are new, they sound new like someone actually put the time and effort to write them.”

Iwaizumi looks at Tooru for a long, hard moment before he sighs. “Come on, dumbass, let’s get back to writing your song.” There’s a smile in his voice, and Tooru almost giggles in glee at the sound of it. 

“Iwa-chan--”

“Shut up.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan!” Tooru pouts. “I haven’t even said anything!”   


“You didn’t have to,” Iwaizumi explains. “It was probably something stupid anyways.”

“You’re so..” Tooru fumbles for a word. “ _ Mean _ !”

Iwaizumi turns around, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Stupid.”

“Shut up!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When Tooru gets home three hours later, his face is sore from smiling. As he plops onto his bed with a groan, he hears his phone ring with a notification. Wearily, he picks up the device and reads the message, before he closes his eyes, dropping his phone onto his bed with a smile.    
  
  
  
  


 

 

**_[Twitter] @zumesofficial followed you_ **

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow first chapter of the new year! Woot Woot. Yeah so updates may or may not slow down because I need to write more of this fic and the one-a-week might be too taxing. Also school is next week and finals are coming up so I don't have time to write. Or update. Hopefully I'll see y'all soon!
> 
> [tumblr](http://toorutoast.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/toorutoast) for all your haikyuu needs :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oiktooru: omg kei-chan  
> oiktooru: you haven’t heard of tetsu-chan’s list of new places?
> 
> sugakou: the list of death
> 
> sawamuradai1: is this that list where he almost got suga killed
> 
> oiktooru: yes
> 
> sugakou: YES
> 
> sawamuradai1: oh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOWOWOW HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN? I apologize for the long wait for the update but second semester was waaay harder than I thought it would be and I'm balancing bio, chem and pre-calc 30 and I'm dying. Good news is that it's spring break and I'm hoping that I can finish writing this so that I can post the rest and finish it off!

**[Group] Titty Croissant**

**kurootitties:** so  
**kurootitties:** guys  
**kurootitties:** its my day to pick lunch today

 **oiktooru:** oh right  
**oiktooru:** so?

 **kurootitties:** so what

 **oiktooru:** what did you pick

 **kurootitties:** lmao i dont even know  
**kurootitties:** i got it from the list

 **sugakou** : oh my god  
**sugakou:** you did not i swear to god

 **kurootitties:** i sure did

 **keijiakaashi:** what is the list?

 **oiktooru:** omg kei-chan  
**oiktooru:** you haven’t heard of tetsu-chan’s list of new places?

 **sugakou:** the list of death

 **sawamuradai1:** is this that list where he almost got suga killed

 **oiktooru:** yes

 **sugakou:** YES

 **sawamuradai1:** oh

 **oiktooru:** so basically kuroo goes outside and writes down every single restaurant he sees  
**oiktooru:** he gets their takeout menus  
**oiktooru:** and then he calls

 **keijiakaashi:** oh no

 **kurootitties:** oh yes

 **sugakou:** shut up kuroo nobody asked you

 **kurootitties:** mean  
**kurootitties:** i have the freedom of speech

 **oiktooru:** anyways last time he picked something from there their food was really bad

 **sugakou:** like really bad

 **oiktooru:** kou-chan had to go to the hospital for food poisoning

 **keijiakaashi:** oh my god

 **sugakou:** exactly

 **kurootitties:** well too bad i already paid for it  
**kurootitties:** oikawa are u coming to the practice today?

 **oiktooru:** which one?

 **kurootitties:** the aces one

 **zumesofficial:** youd better be

 **kurootitties:** damn  
**kurootitties:** possesive much, zumes?

 **oiktooru:** yeah imma be there  
**oiktooru:** omg iwa-chan~

 **zumesofficial:** shut up trash

 **kurootitties:** ah young love, it stirs my bones  
**kurootitties:** anyways i need someone to pick up the order  
**kurootitties:** which means you oikawa

 **oiktooru:** why me?

 **kurootitties:** because everyone else is here already  
 **kurootitties:** wait  
 **kurootitties:** akaashi isnt 

 **keijiakaashi:** i can drive you oikawa-san

 **oiktooru:** omg kei-chan, really?

 **kurootitties:** it’s um called oriental pho  
 **kurootitties:** idk here’s the pamphlet  
 **kurootitties: [sent a photo]**  

 **zumesofficial:** thats like the sketchiest pamphlet ive ever seen

 **kurootitties:** shut your mouth  
 **kurootitties:** anyways its under my name  
 **kurootitties:** please oikawa? 

 **oiktooru:** fine

 **kurootitties:** yay!

  
  
  
  
  


“Have they fallen over yet?” Akaashi grumbles as he opens the car door. Tooru struggles to keep up the five large bowls of pho that Kuroo ordered, grunting as he makes it to the car with all five, unfortunately, still whole.

“No,” he sighs. Akaashi sends him a horrified look.

“Goddammit.”

Tooru nods in agreement as he places the bowls carefully into the back of Akaashi’s car. He sits down next to them, making sure he has access to all five just in case any of them threaten to topple over. Akaashi hefts his own bag of drinks and toppings into the passenger seat before he starts the car. The sound of Chopin fills the space, and Tooru’s thankful for the calming music.

“How long does it take to get to Bokuto’s apartment?” Tooru whines.

“From here?” Akaashi takes out his phone, starting the GPS. “Ten minutes.”

Tooru groans. “If I have to spend another minute with these bowls--”

Akaashi sends the accused bowls a disgusted look. “We’re going to have to eat them anyways, Oikawa-san.”

“Fuck,” Tooru says under his breath. As Akaashi starts driving towards the apartment, Tooru stares at his phone. “Would they get mad if I ordered pizza?”

“Probably not,” Akaashi replies, turning onto the freeway. “If you paid for it.”

“I’ll do that,” Tooru decides, dialling the pizza place. He pauses for a moment. “What’s Bokuto’s address?”

Akaashi glances down at his phone and recites Bokuto’s address. Tooru nods. The line connects.

_“Hi, welcome to Pizza Place! My name’s Subaru, what can I get for you today?”_

The sound of Chopin fades into the background as Tooru orders.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Oh man, thanks Ak _aa_ shi!” Bokuto yells when he opens the door. He takes the pho from Tooru’s hands and heads into the kitchen. Tooru brushes his hair out of his eyes, and sees that the rest of the band is there, Suga included. He steps in, offering a quick _excuse me_ and watches as Bokuto places the bowls onto the counter. Suga sends the bowls a look of disdain before he heads off and hides behind Daichi, mouth pressing into the other man’s deltoid. Kuroo looks oddly pleased with himself.

Bokuto smiles at Akaashi. “Man am I starving!”

He opens the caps off of one of the bowls, and the pungent smell wafts out of the bowl, and into the rest of the room. Bokuto’s face falls, and he looks at the bowl, offended. Suga whimpers.

“No way in hell am I eating that,” Iwaizumi grumbles. Beside him, leaning up against the kitchen counter, Terushima nods in agreement. He sends Kuroo an annoyed look.

“Kuroo,” he whines, long legs walking up to the man. Kuroo raises an eyebrow, lips pursed as he watches the bowl. Terushima’s arms wrap around Kuroo’s middle, and Kuroo’s arm immediately wraps around him, pulling him close. Tooru raises an eyebrow. “You ordered that, you eat it.”

“I ordered pizza,” Tooru supplies.

Terushima’s eyes snap over to him. “You’re a lifesaver, _Tooru_.”

Tooru has flashbacks to purrs and scratches and he sends Terushima a look of mild disgust. Across from him, Kuroo has the same reaction, dark eyes regarding Tooru with a look of anger. He tilts his head down, until his lips reach Terushima’s ear. Without breaking eye contact with Tooru, he whispers something. Terushima laughs.

“I’m going to head downstairs,” Iwaizumi says, breaking the silence. He picks his drumsticks up from off the counter. With a nod, Shimizu follows him, and soon enough Daichi and Suga head downstairs. Akaashi sighs, walking over to Bokuto and slowly pushing the cover back onto the pho.

As soon as they hear the telltale click of the door closing, Kuroo rolls his eyes.

“It’s really not that bad,” he suggests.

“Bro,” Bokuto looks at the bowls sadly. “They smell _so bad_.”

Tooru nods absentmindedly. “What would Ken-chan say?”

“He would eat it with me because he’s a good friend.”

“Are they all the same?” Akaashi interrupts, effectively stopping the banter between Tooru and Kuroo. Kuroo shakes his head.

“Three and three,” he replies. “I ordered three steak and three meatball.”

Terushima stares at the bowls before he slowly walks over and opens one of them. The smell is fragrant, and as Tooru smells it, he hears his stomach rumble. Terushima sends Kuroo a coy look before he picks up a pair of chopsticks.

“Thank you for the food,” he says, and he takes a bite.

Tooru waits for the screaming, the yelling, the vomiting, but surprisingly none of it comes. Rather, what comes out is a muffled moan, and Terushima gestures to the bowl with his chopsticks.

“It’s amazing,” he says before he grabs his own bowl and begins filling it. Akaashi stares at Terushima in mild discomfort before Bokuto grabs his own pair of chopsticks and picks up some of the pho.

“Bokuto-san--” Akaashi protests. Bokuto ignores him and stuffs it into his mouth. He has almost the same reaction as Terushima: he closes his eyes and lets out a sound of pleasure. He takes another spoonful of the pho and offers it to Akaashi. Tentatively, he opens his mouth and lets Bokuto feed him.

Akaashi’s eyes soften, the way he does when he’s found something he’s liked. He chews around the bite before he nods. “Try it Oikawa-san, it’s good. Really good.”

Tooru walks over to the counter and grabs his own pair of chopsticks. Whispering a quiet “thank you for the food”, he snags some of the noodles and brings them to his mouth. He barely has a moment before a moan rips itself out of his throat. He grabs his own bowl and stuffs it full. He hums, stuffing another into his mouth. He gestures for Kuroo to take a bite.

Kuroo eyes the three of them wearily. “I feel like this is some sort of joke you’re in.”

Terushima rolls his eyes and grabs his bowl. He takes some of the noodles in-between his chopsticks and presses them to Kuroo’s lips. Instinctively, Kuroo opens his mouth, eyes never leaving Terushima’s. Once he swallows down the bite, he lets out a small hum before h e opens his mouth for more. Terushima complies. After three bites, Kuroo lets out an over exaggerated moan. Tooru almost chokes on his noodles.

“What the actual fuck was that?” Tooru croaks out after he stops coughing.

“That,” Kuroo says around another mouthful, “is why I thought you guys were joking.” As if to prove his point, he closes his eyes and moans again.

The door to the basement opens. Suga sticks his head out. “Why does it sound like an orgy in here?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“I kind of just remembered,” Bokuto says once they finish their pho and head down to the basement for their practice. He slings the strap of his bass over his shoulder and plays each of the strings absent-mindedly. “You haven’t stayed for an entire rehearsal yet.”

Tooru shakes his head, as Iwaizumi sets up his drums. “I have not.”

Bokuto nods slowly before he shrugs off his bass and heads over to the other side of the room where a variety of musical instruments sit, his string bass being one of them. “Then, how about we start with something less...loud?”

“You like loud,” Terushima complains as he fiddles with his guitar. “ _I_ like loud.”

“Yeah, but Oikawa’s never been in here for a rehearsal yet,” Bokuto explains, taking out an acoustic guitar. He quickly tunes the strings before he brings it over to the center of the room. “Let’s start with an acoustic song, just so that he can get used to the sound.”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “I’m fine with that.” He stretches as he moves away from the kit.

Kuroo gestures for Shimizu to join them. She does, carrying another acoustic. Suga and Akaashi make themselves comfortable by the soundboard and Tooru heads over to join them. He watches as Bokuto gives the guitar to Kuroo, who strums a simple chord progression. After the progression repeats for the third time, Shimizu begins to play a simple melody on her guitar. As they play, Daichi begins to vocalize a melody, and after two bars, the rest join in until the melodies overlap, creating harmonies.

It’s beautiful and Tooru recognizes the melody as an English song, one that Suga had for his alarm a while back. They continue until Iwaizumi hits the end of his seat, creating a beat. Suddenly, all the voices drop out, except for Daichi’s, who sings the first verse.

“Nobody ever knows, nobody ever sees,” Daichi sings, and Tooru is floored by how beautiful it sounds. He watches as the other members close their eyes. As Daichi continues singing, Tooru watches as Iwaizumi leans into every single beat he accentuates on his seat.

When Daichi hits the chorus, Kuroo begins to harmonize with him, and the guitars get louder as Shimizu switches from fingerpicking to strumming. After the chorus, they return to the harmonized melody they created at the beginning of the song, and Tooru watches in amazement.

The second verse is taken by Kuroo who opens his eyes and stares at Terushima as he sings “Cause I don't ever want to know, don't ever want to see things change. Cause when I'm living on my own, I'll wanna take it back and start again.” Terushima doesn’t open his eyes, and when the chorus begins again, Daichi takes control of the chorus, opening his eyes and staring straight at Suga when he sings.

When the bridge comes, Iwaizumi’s drumming becomes more aggressive, and the others begin to harmonize in the background as Kuroo and Daichi take over the bridge. The harmonies pile over each other and Tooru finds himself overwhelmed as he listens to the song slow down once the final chorus ends. When the band finishes, they look at Tooru almost expectedly. Iwaizumi’s face falls.

“What?” Tooru asks, looking around worriedly.

“You’re crying,” Iwaizumi states bluntly. He stands up and walks over to Tooru, hands hovering over his face. “Why are you crying?”

“What,” Tooru touches his cheeks and feels the tears. He wipes them quickly. Iwaizumi’s hand drops. “Oh, it was beautiful. I loved it.”

“You did?” Bokuto perks up, his eyes brightening.

“Yeah, I did.” He looks up at Iwaizumi, who regards him with his lips pursed. “I liked it a lot.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Tooru watches as Suga screams, tilting his controller as he tries to avoid Terushima. He lets out a string of curses as Waluigi passes Toad on the screen in front of them.

“Die, motherfucker!” Suga screams as Terushima laughs. Behind him, Daichi lets out a chuckle as he maneuvers his Mario up behind Suga’s Toad. Suga widens his eyes as Toad balances on the edge of the side. He whips his head around. “Daichi I swear to god if you topple me I will break up with you.” Daichi’s lip quirks up, and he makes eye contact with Suga as he runs into Toad. Suga screams.

Tooru watches as the others laugh along. Bokuto and Akaashi sit in front of the television, a controller in Bokuto’s hands while Akaashi nurses a soda can. Kuroo and Terushima sit beside Daichi and Suga, falling into peals of uncontrollable laughter as Suga screams. Terushima crosses the finish line first, and screams triumphantly, dancing as he does. Tooru laughs from behind his own pop.

Shimizu sits at the counter, eating the last of her pho. Beside her, Iwaizumi sits, lips quirked into an amused half-smirk. Tooru sighs.

Bokuto makes eye contact with him and silently offers him the controller, but Tooru shakes his head. It’s relaxing, not having to worry about the ensemble for once. Tooru doesn’t remember the last time he’s made friends, and he’s glad to have met Aces. Bokuto stands with an empty pop can, heading to the kitchen with a small smile. Akaashi’s eyes follow him as he leaves.

Earlier, Tooru had asked about Bokuto’s cello, and Bokuto had perked up at the question.

“Oh, Cellie-chan?” he asked, fingers nervously moving over the bass. “He was a gift from my mom.”

“Your mom?”

“I used to play cello when I was younger,” Bokuto explained. “I took on string bass when I was in high school, ‘cause they were short on them. I liked it. A lot.”

“Why’d you switch to electric?”

Bokuto froze at that, a solemn expression on his face. It took him a couple of seconds of silence before he plastered a smile on his face, this one fake. “I...didn’t like the instrument anymore. But I came back! I came back because I saw ‘Kaashi play with the philharmonic, and he was beautiful.” He looked over to where Akaashi was standing with Suga, looking over some of the band’s songs. “I wanted to play with him.”

Tooru watches now as Bokuto returns with a bag of chips, gently lowering them to Akaashi’s lap. He turns his head to the kitchen counter, expecting to find Iwaizumi laughing at the joke that Kuroo said, but he’s nowhere to be found. Shimizu catches his eye, and she gestures to the door with her head. Tooru stands up and bows slightly in thanks before he heads out.

He finds Iwaizumi in front of his bike, a cigarette between his lips. Pursing his lips in slight disgust, he walks over to Iwaizumi, clearing his throat before he gets too close.

“Why aren’t you inside?”

Iwaizumi takes a drag. “Thought I could use a smoke. It was getting too stuffy in there.”

Tooru nods. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

“Have I?”

“You have.”

Iwaizumi’s silent for a moment. He takes another drag as Tooru comes up beside him. He lets out the smoke with a long sigh. “I want it to be perfect.”

“Sorry?”

“Your song,” Iwaizumi clarifies. “I want it to be perfect. You’re extremely passionate about what you do, Oikawa. I can see it when you listen to us, when you listen to the band, when you talk about the music. I don’t want to mess your song up.”

Tooru doesn’t say anything for a while.

Iwaizumi sighs and puts out his cigarette. As he turns to leave, Tooru stops him, grabbing his wrist. “You won’t.”

“Huh?”

“You won’t ruin it,” he smiles, unconsciously bringing Iwaizumi closer to him. “I trust you. And we’re in this together, Iwa-chan. It’s you and me. It’s us.”

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi smirks, hands coming to rest on Oikawa’s hips.

“Yeah,” Tooru says as he slowly leans in. His heart is pounding as Iwaizumi’s face gets closer. Tooru’s hands slowly slide up from Iwaizumi’s wrist to the back of his neck.  He can feel Iwaizumi’s breath on his lips, can almost taste the slight tang of the cigarette.

“Oi!” The two of them break apart quickly, and Tooru’s heart begins hammering out of control. On the balcony above, Terushima stares at them, a lopsided smile on his face. “You two lovebirds! Come in, it’s time to practice!”

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” Iwaizumi yells back, voice gruff. He turns to Tooru, the smile in his eyes gone. “Let’s go?”

Tooru swallows, hiding the disappointment in his throat. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


> **Oikawa Tooru (@oiktooru)** tweeted
> 
> @kurootitties your boyfriend is a cockblock
> 
>  
> 
> **Kuroo Tetsurou (@kurootitties)** tweeted
> 
> @oiktooru more like a cockslut
> 
>  
> 
> **Terushima Yuuji (@terushimaces)** tweeted
> 
> ;)))))

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Hey, do you think you could help me with something?” Bokuto asks when Tooru enters Iwaizumi’s apartment, three days later. Tooru staggers for a second, eyebrow raising as he looks at Bokuto quizzically. He’d been expecting Iwaizumi to open the door for him.

“Yeah, sure.” Tooru slides into the apartment, slightly cowering under Bokuto’s gaze. As he slips off his jacket and his shoes, Iwaizumi’s head pops out from the kitchen. He regards Tooru with a blink before he nods.

“What do you want?” his head disappears from sight, voice echoing as it drifts down the halls.

“Water would be fine,” Tooru replies as Bokuto gestures for him to follow him into Iwaizumi’s practice room. It’s messier than usual, Tooru notices. Sarah and Fukuro, Bokuto’s two basses occupy the room, and Iwaizumi’s drumsticks are strewn beside his laptop. There’s a bunch of sheet music on the floor, mixed with lines of lyrics that resemble Kuroo’s handwriting. Tooru squats next to one, inspecting the lyrics.

_Oh, I want to teach you a lesson in the worst kind of way. Still I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday…_

“Oikawa?” Tooru turns his head. Bokuto stands by the laptop. Tooru stands up and leans over Bokuto’s shoulder to stare at the screen. It’s a draft of a song. Bokuto pulls the headphones out of the jack and hovers the cursor over the play button. “Could you listen to this?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tooru says, and Bokuto presses the play button.

It’s an Aces song, that’s evident enough to Tooru; however, the melody is different. It’s slower than most of their songs, more romantic, and there’s a heavy bass undertone that brings richness to the harmonies. It’s beautiful, but there are places where Tooru could use more treble instruments. As he analyzes the song, Bokuto watches his reaction with rapt eyes. The song ends abruptly, and Tooru nods.

“It’s good,” Tooru says, and Bokuto nods, looking down at the mousepad.

“Zumes said that too,” Bokuto sighs, “But I want to know what I can do to make it better.”

“Oh,” Tooru says. “Of course there are things that’ll make it better. Actually, there’s a lot that could make it better.”

Bokuto sends him a weary glance. It jars Tooru to see him so down. He usually catches Bokuto in his happiest moments, ones where he’s vying for Akaashi’s attention or expressing his feeling through music. This, however, is Bokuto at his utmost vulnerability. He chuckles.

“Could you…” he trails off, staring at the sheet music. “Forget it, it’s not good enough. Akaa _shi_ won’t like it.”

Tooru watches as Bokuto moves the cursor over to the exit button, and he stops him with a hand on his wrist. Bokuto’s gaze looks over to him. Tooru hums as he circles a section with his fingers.

“Akaashi likes dissonance,” he says plainly. “He likes the stretch of an augmented chord, and loves to see it resolved. You did that here, once. If you added it here,” Tooru trails his finger down the screen to another section, “it would sound more like a motif more than a mistake. Since it only happened once up here, it kind of sounded like a wrong note.”

Bokuto looks at him, the light slowly coming back into his eyes. He nods as he makes the change.

“And here,” Tooru continues, finger tracing the bass line. “It’s a bit too much. Everywhere else, the bass is the main focus, but it still blends in with the rest of the instruments. Here, it stands out  a bit too much.”

“How do I fix that?” Bokuto asks. Tooru taps the screen with his nail. His eyes scan through the entire piece, skimming through motifs and chords. He nods as he understands the chord progression of the song. His eyes trail up to the section again.

“This is a dominant chord, right?” Tooru murmurs, and Bokuto nods. “Maybe if you added something more in the guitars. They’re holding such a long chord here. If you took something like that and put it there, it would lessen the bass a bit.

“What if I just took out the bass?” Bokuto suggests.

“It’s a good part,” Tooru hums. “I like it. It’s just that it stands out way too much here.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto nods, as he changes the notes in the guitar section. It’s a moving part, one that’s repeated throughout the song and Tooru nods. He looks at Tooru expectantly. “What else?”

Tooru must look surprised because Bokuto laughs. “Oikawa, you’re the prodigy of the school! Everybody knows about you.”

“Do they?” Tooru muses. He points out another part that needs improving, and the two of them work on the song endlessly. There’s so many improvements that can be made, and Bokuto’s insightful. He offers changes to Tooru suggestions that Tooru’s never thought of before. Soon enough, they stop tweaking the piece, and move on to creating the next part of the song.

It’s twenty minutes later when Iwaizumi enters the room. He’s wearing an apron, which surprises Tooru to no end, but he looks at the two of them, walking over with quick strides. Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow and gestures to the song. “Let’s hear it.”

Bokuto nods happily and presses the play button, and the melody comes out again. As the song plays, Tooru watches Iwaizumi’s expression carefully. He seems to enjoy it, and when the song ends, he claps Bokuto’s back with a smile.

“You did it, man.”

“Hell yeah,” Bokuto laughs. “I couldn’t do it without Oikawa though. Thanks, man.”

Tooru laughs, patting Bokuto’s shoulder. Iwaizumi studies his hand for a moment before he looks up, gesturing to the door.

“I made yakisoba,” he says, walking to the door.

“Good, I’m hungry.” Bokuto stands up, and when he notices that Tooru isn’t immediately following. “Are you okay, Oikawa?”

“Yeah,” Tooru nods, gathering himself and sending Bokuto a cheeky smile. “I’ll be there.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Bokuto leaves an hour later, and Tooru’s left on Iwaizumi’s couch, watching the television as Iwaizumi washes the dishes. He lets out a sigh as he flips through the channels until he finds a volleyball game. His stomach churns as he watches the setter toss the ball to his ace, scoring a point with a final, resounding thud.

“Yo, are you ready or…” Iwaizumi trails off as he watches the replay of the point. He whistles. “Damn.”

“Yeah,” Tooru mumbles. “Did you ever play volleyball, Iwa-chan?”

“In high school, yeah.” he watches the screen. “What about you?”

“Yeah,” Tooru replies. “High school.”

“Now those were the years,” Iwaizumi sighs. He turns his head to face Tooru and immediately his grin disappears. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Tooru’s hands immediately go up to his cheeks to check for tears, but there are none. He looks at Iwaizumi quizzically. “What?”

“You look like someone killed your dog.”

“It’s nothing,” Tooru says. Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow. “Okay fine. It’s volleyball.”

“Volleyball?” Iwaizumi prompts.

“Yeah,” Tooru sighs, bringing his knees up to his chest. “I played, in high school. The best years of my life, honestly. Kuroo, Kenma, and I, we all were on the team, and I loved it more than anything. I wanted to be the best at it, honestly, and I fucked up.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything.

“In my third year, I really wanted to get better, to prove to everyone that I was more than just a music kid with a bigger dream in life, and I practiced every day.” Tooru takes a deep breath, laughing. “I was so stupid. Every day after school, I’d practice my serves. Every morning I’d make Tetsu-chan walk with me to school and practice our plays. I overworked my knee. It started to hurt, and I ignored it, thinking it was normal until one day during a game, I served the ball, landed wrong and,” he snaps his fingers, “gone. Just like that.”

“I tore a ligament,” Tooru explains. He trails a finger down his knee. “When they opened it up, there was no fixing it. They stitched it up enough to walk and jog if I ever needed to, but I couldn’t play volleyball.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widen. “You didn’t…”

Tooru nods sadly. “I did. I didn’t listen and I played and it just got worse.” He coughs. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s all in the past, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry,” Iwaizumi says.

Tooru shrugs. “It’s all right,” he sniffles. “I’m oka--”

Suddenly, he’s pulled into a hug, face pressing into Iwaizumi’s shoulder. For a moment, Tooru doesn’t know what to do. Iwaizumi’s mouth moves over his hair, pressing a short, chaste kiss on the crown of his head. Finally, Tooru presses his face into the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck and begins to cry. Iwaizumi holds him there until Tooru’s sobs subside and he falls asleep.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs in this chapter are: Please Don't Go and Just One Yesterday. Lmao I wrote this such a long time ago I forgot about them sorry!
> 
> Here's to a quicker update?
> 
> [tumblr](http://toorutoast.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/toorutoast)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if this is an actual project lmao. Anyways I have the fic up to chapter 6 written so it'll be updated pretty consistently, I just need to find the time. 
> 
> Also first multi-chaptered fic!! I'm so happy ahhh
> 
> Feel free to chat me up on [tumblr](http://toorutoast.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/toorutoast)!


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